
Qass. 
Book. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



> 



One Hundred 

Famous Americans 



HELEN AINSLIE SMITH 

AUTHOR OF "great CITIES OF THE MODERN WORLD," " GREAT CITIES OF THE ANCIENT WORLD, 
"animals: wild and TAMK," "birds and FISHES," ETC., ETC. 

REVISED EDITION. 



^, 



\ 




^!^4i 



V-=^_ro!^^»>a£' 




WITH PORTRAITS AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS. 



NEW YORK 
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 



Q Lafayette Place 



k 



IN UNIFORM STYLE 

Copiously Illustrated. 



D'AULNOY'S FAIRY TALES. 

MATTIE'S SECRET. 

ONE HUNDRED FAMOUS AMERICANS. 

HEROES OF AMERICAN DISCOVERY. 

CrREAT CITIES OF THE ANCIENT 
WORLD. 

GREAT CITIES OF THE MODERN 
WORLD. ^' 

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. 

ILLUSTRATED POEMS AND SONGS 
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 

LABOULAYE'S ILLUSTRATED FAIRY 
, TALES. 

SPORTS AND PASTIMES OF AMERI- 
C.A.N BOYS. 

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ROBIN- 
SON CRUSOE. 

THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. 

LAMB'S TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 

WOOD'S ILLUSTRATED NATURAL 
HISTORY FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 



All bound in handsome lithographed double 
covers ; also in cloth. 

George Rontlcdge & So/is, 

9 LAFAYETTE PLACE, NEW YORK. 



Copyright 1886. 

By JoSKFM I,. Bl.AMIRE. 



CONTEl^TS. 



Inventors 1 

Early Statesmen and Orators 41 

Later Statesmen and Orators 78 

Lawyers 118 

Early Military and Naval Commanders 139 

Military and Naval Commanders op the Civil War 175 

Pioneers and Explorers 201 

Reformers ai^d Philanthropists -isi 

Eminent Divines -384 

Physicians and Surc4eons ;',l 5 

Scholars and Teachers ?,4?, 

Historians ai^j^t^ ^^^^^^ ists ?, Ii) 

Poets and j 404 

Editors xiNALisTS , 438 

DiST' Artists 4(17 

P -N... 513 



PEEFACE. 



nr TT'ITH more of an historical than a purely hiog-raphical purpose, and under a 
title more typical than literal, One Hundred Famous Americans aims 
to present a series of brief and intei'esting' sketches of some of the greatest men 
and women of America — to group them by the calling-s in which their most 
important work has been done, to describe the events of their lives; to tell 
what they have been to their companions, to their professions, and to the gi-eat 
interests of their nation and the Avorld at large — setting- forth from different 
standpoints their influence upon their own times and the future. Tlie endeavor 
has been to tell the stories of these great lives fairly and truthfully', omitting* 
for the most part all anecdotes and pui'el\' [)ei\sonal matters, while making- clear 
the distinguishing traits of each individual, not only as an individual, but also 
as a successful follower of his or her vocation. In this way some idea has also 
been given, it is hoped, of the most notable achievements in the history of the 
various professions here represented. It is not claimed that this selection 
foi-ms a perfect list of our greatest men and women : many names having been 
omitted that rank with those given : but even in the wide difference of opinion 
existing upon the merits of fame, it is believed that the characters herein 
described will be found to be a fair representation of those who have had the 
strongest influence upon our history. The compiler has been much aided in mak- 
ing the selection by the advice — most generously bestowed — of several authors 
and professional men of noted judgment. An attempt to bring this subject 



iv Preface. 

within the compass of one volume must leave very much unsaid ; but the object 
of this book will be met if it gives some sort of connected and graphic account 
of those who have done great work in or for our country-, and if it can pre- 
sent this inioi-niation in a way that will interest young people and bi-oaden 
their ideas of life and history. The illustrations have been taken from photo- 
graphs and historical portraits, models, or the real objects. Thanks ai-e due to 
Messrs. Harper & Brothers for permission to use the illustrations of A slier 

Brown Durand and Elias Haskett Derby. 

Helen Ainslie Smith. 

New York City. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIOJ^S. 



Adams, John, 59. 
Agassiz, Louis J. R. , 369. 
Anderson, Alexander, 503. 
Appleton, Daniel, 551. 
Appleton, William H., 553. 
Astor, John Jacob, 519. 
Astor Library, 521. 
Atlantic Telegraph Cable (1866), 30. 
Avidubon, John James, 353. 

Bancroft, George, 385. 
Beecher, Henry Ward, 311. 
Bennett, James G., 443. 
Blanchard, Thomas, 15. 
Boone, Daniel, 315. 
Booth, Edwin, 479. 
Brown, John, 261. 
Bryant, William C, 405. 

Calhoun, John Caldwell, 91. 
Carey, Henry Charles, 99. 
Chase, Salmon Portland, 111. 
Chiekering, Jonas, 535. 
Childs, George W., 465. 
Clay. Henry, 79. 
Clinton, De Witt, 77. 
Cooper, J. Fenmiore, 393. 
Cooper, Peter, i;. ■ 
Cooper Union, 28'6. 
Copk^>, Johns.. 48' 
Cotton-G' <c, 3. 
Curtis, George "^' 461. 
Ciishnian, Cm ytte, 475. 



Dana, Charles A., 457. 
Dana, James Dwight, 359. 
Decatur, Stephen, 167. 
Derby, Elias H., 515. 
Durand, Asher B., 497. 
Dwight, Timothy, 297. 

Edison, Thomas Alva, 35. 
Edwards, Jonathan, 291. 
Emerson, Ralph W., 427. 
Ericsson, John, 9. 
Evarts, William Maxwell, 
Everett, Edward, 95. 



138. 



Farragut, David Glascoe, 199. 

Forrest, Edwin, 473. 

Franklin, Benjamin, 41. 

Franklin Press, 38. 

Franklin's " Art of Making Money," 45. 

Fremont, John Charles, 225. 

Fulton, Robert, 5. 

Garrison, William Lloyd, 253. 
Gn-ard, Stephen, 271. 
Goodyear, Charles, 23. 
Grant, Ulysses Simpson, 181. 
Greeley, Horace, 451. 
Greene, Nathaniel, 147. 

Hale, Nathan, 439. 
Hamilton, Alexander, .53. 
Harper, Fletchei-, 550. 



•vm 



List of Illustrations. 



Harper, James, 545. 
Harper, John, 547. 
Harper, Joseph W., 549. 
Hayes, Isaac Israel, 343. 
Hayne, Robert Young, 89. 
Hawtliorne, Nathaniel, 397. 
Henry, Joseph, 363. 
Henry, Patrick, 67. 
Hoe's Printing-Presses, 39. 
Holmes, Oliver W., 421. 
Howe, Elias, 33. 
Hughes, John Joseph, 808. 

Irving, Wasliington, 389. 

Jackson, Andrew, 157. 
Jackson, Thomas Jonathan, 193 
Jefferson, Joseph, 481. 
Jefferson. Thomas, 69. 
^ Jones, John Paul, 153. 

Kane, Elisha Kent, 237, 
Kent, James, 125. 
Lawrence, Abbott, 537. 
Lee, Robert Edmvintl, 189. 
Lincoln, Abraham, 105. 
Longfellow, Henry W., 409. 
Lowell, James R., ^33. 

Machine for Printing Paper-Hangings, 40. 
Mann, Horace, 269. 
Marshall, John, 119. 
Mason, Lowell, 469. 
Mather, Cotton, 289. 
Maury, Matthew F., 367. 
McClellan, George Brinton, 177. 
McCormick, Cyrus Hall, 27. 
McCormick Reaper, 29. 
Morris, Robert, 47. 
Morse, Samuel F. B.*, 17. 
Morse's Recording Telegraph, 18. 
" Transmitting Key, 18. 
Plate, 19. 
Motley, John L., 383. 
Mott, Lucretia, 363. 
Murray, Lindley, 345. 



O'Conor, Charles, 137. 

Peabodj', George, 277. 

Penn, William, 211. 

PeiTy, Oliver Hazard, 171, 

PhiUips, Wendell, 259. 

Physick, Philip Syng, 321. 

Pinkney, William, 133. 

Poe, Edgar Allan, 413. 

Powers, Hiram, 507. 

Prescott, William H., 877. 

Printing-Press used by Franklin, 43. 

Rush, Benjamin, 317. 

Scott, Winlield, 161. 
Seward, William Henry, 115. 
Sherman, William Tecumseh, 187. 
Silliman, Benjamin, 357. 
Smith, Captain John, 203. 
Stanton, Edwin M., 109. 
Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, 367. 
Steamer "Clermont," 7. 
Stewart, Alexander T., 543. 
Story, Joseph, 137. 
Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 401. 
Stuart, Gilbert, 491. 
Sumner, Charles, 133. 

Tappan, Lewis, 539. 

The Breaking of the Cable, 21. 

The ' ' Great Eastern " at Anchor, 22. 

The "Monitor," 11. 

Thompson, Benjamin, 347. 

Vanderbilt, Cornelius, 539. 

Washington, George, 189. 
Webster, Daniel, 83. 
Webster, Noah, 435. 
Wells, Horace, 333. 
Whitney, Eh, 1. 
Whittier, John G., 417. 
Williams, Roger, 309. 
Wilson, Alexander, 351. 



ONE HUNDRED FAMOUS AMERICANS. 



INVENTORS. 



THE American people are noted for in- 
ventive genius, love of experiment, 
and a desire to find out new and better 
ways of doing- things. We are often ridi- 
culed for these traits, but it is due to them 
more than to anything else that during 
our first century as a nation the often-de- 
spised republic of the New World has been 
raised to an honorable place among the 
foremost of powers. The " Yankee inven- 
tions " that people laughed at, and the 
" American ingenuity " of which the,y 
made a by-word, have been steadily at 
work developing the resources of our great 
country, making easy to accomplish what 
was before thought impossible, and giving 
to the whole world some of the most valu- 
able discoveiies of the age. 

American genius and Amei'ican enter- 
prise have brought forth more inventions and improvements, both in number 
and in importance, than any other nation in this or any other century in modern 
history. They have changed home life and busmess life all over the world. 
There is scarcely a branch of trade or manufacture that has not been greatly 
altered by them; travel by land and Avater has grown to be a marvel of com- 
foi't and c[idckness that was not even imagined a century ago ; and the lightning 
force of electricit}^ has been so bi'ought under the power of man that he can 




Eli Whitney. 



2 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

use it to send instant messages around tlie giobe, to talk witli people hundreds; 
of miles away, to light a building or a city almost as brightly as the sun, and 
for a hundred other useful purposes. 

Even art has been aided and carried forward by this mechanical ingenuity, 
and science — itself often the inventor's greatest help — has received wonderful 
additions and reached some of its best i-esults in modern times, through the 
patient work of the ingenious and exi^erimenting American mind. 

The first name upon our record of inventors is that of Eli Whitney, whose 
idea of the cotton-gin is yet living in the many hundreds of but sliglitly altered 
and improved machines that now prepare for market over four million bales of 
cotton per year ; for America produces larger quantities and a better quality of 
cotton than any other country in the world. 

Mr. Whitney lived during the latter half of the last century and the first quar- 
ter of this. He was born ten years before the United States became a nation, 
and while our patriots were fighting for independence he was a lad, working on 
his father's farm, mending violins for neighbors far and near, makuig- canes, hat- 
pins, and nails; visiting- all the machine-shops he could get to, and studying for 
Yale College. He was a bright, industrious fellow, with a good deal of skill, so 
that he paid his wa^ through college by doing jobs of mechanical work and by 
teachmg school. 

After the college course was over he started South to teach in a Georgia 
family. But when he reached the place another tutor had already been engaged,, 
and young Mr. Whitney found himself away from home with no business and ver^^ 
little money. But he was not quite friendless, for he had made the acquaint- 
ance of General Greene's widow, who was so much pleased with him that she 
urged him to stay in Savannah and keep up his studies, inviting him to make her 
house his home. He accepted her invitation, and began to teach her children and 
to read law. But Mrs. Gi'eene soon saw that he was more interested in machin- 
ery and making useful invcnitions than in his legal studies. She noticed his clever- 
ness in rigging lip embi'oider^' frames and other things, and firmly believed that 
he could invent a machine so much wanted then for picking cotton, for in those 
days the short-stapled raw cotton that grew in the Southern States had to be all 
picked over by hand to sepai-ate the hard, bean-like seeds from the fluffy masses 
of lint, and one pound was about all that a good worker coidd prepare in a day. 
There was a i-ude I'oller-gin made in England that prepai'ed the kind called 
long-stapled cotton for market, by crushing the seeds and then '' bowing" or 
whippmg- the dirt out of the lint. Mrs. Greene, like a great many other people, 
felt that there ought to be a better machine than this, which could do the work 
of the hand-pickers in a much shorter time. She talked it over with her planter 



Eli Jfliitney. 



friends, telling- them that Mr. Whitney "could make anything," and showing- 
them some of his ingenious work, till they finally induced the young- man to try 
his skill upon a g-in. He hegan by first watching the pickers ; then he formed 
an idea of how a machine might do the same work, and finally he began to build 
the saw-gin ; he had to make his own tools and even draw his own wire, but when 
it was done it \vas perfect ; and, while a g-reat many improvements of various 
kinds have been made in it, the cotton-giu now used is reall^^ the same as that 
which came from Eli Whitney's hands in 1793. 

The plan of this machine, w^hich has done such wonders for American industry, 
is a grid or net-work 



of wires, with a set of 
circular saws arranged 
behind it so that the 
teeth of the saws pio- 
ject through the net- 
woi'k as they turn. 
When the lint is Jaid 
on the grid and the 
machine set in motion, 
the sharp teeth of the 
saws catch the lint, 
tearing- it off and drag- 
g-ing- it through the net- 
work, leaving behind 
ttie seeds which are 
not able to pass, but 
slide down the grid out 
of the way, as soon as 
they are free from the 
cotton. A simple re- 
volving brush sweeps 

the lint from the saws before they turn far enough to carry it back to the grid. 
The model of this was made in a few months, and to please his fiiend, Mr. Whit- 
ney consented to show it to a company of Mrs. Greene's guests, mostly planters. 
They were very much interested and even excited when they found that one per- 
son at this machine could separate more cotton from the seed in one day than 
could be done in the old way in many months. The repoi-t spread quickly through 
the South, and many people wanted to see the wonderfid invention, but Mr. Whit- 
ney refused to show it, because it was not yet perfected, and because he A\ished 




Cotton-gin. 



4 One Hinidrcd Famous Ainer/cans. 

to patent it before it was made public. But the excitement g-rew so great, that 
some dishonorable people bi'oke into his workshop one night, stole the model, and 
got out several machin<?s on much the same plan, so that he was almost entirely 
defrauded from anj^ reward for his labor, althoug-h it chang-ed the whole indus- 
trial history of the nation, and was so perfect that but little improvement has 
ever been made in it. A slave who could pick a pound of cotton a day by hand 
now pi'epared a thousand pounds a day. The planters who had had to let acres 
of fields lie waste, because they coidd not grow on them indigo, rice, tar, nor 
tobacco, and because they were then raising- as nuich cotton as their slaves could 
pick, now began to raise enormous (iuantities of tlie plant. Before this gin was 
invented thei-e were less than two hundred thousand pounds shipped yearly. A 
few yeai's after, over seventeen million pounds were sent out, and the year before 
the Civil War, it was over two billion pounds. 

Cotton became the one g-reat power in the South, bringing- wealth, industry-, 
and commercial importance to the newly-formed nation. But it also gave work 
to a g-reat many more men and women, and instead of slavery dying- out in the 
South, as it had beg-un to do in the North, it grew stronger veiy fast. Planters, 
traders, manufacturers, and the thieves who stole the gin model flourished and 
made money, while the inventor received nothing. He claimed his rig-ht before 
the coui-ts in Georg-ia, and the jui-ies decided in favor of the thieves ; and about 
all that he ever g-ot was fifty thousand dollars paid him for the patent by the 
Leg-islature of South Carolina, eleven years after the model was made. 

After trying- in vain for five 3-ears even to get a living- from the invention 
already bi-inging wealth to others, Mr. Whitney went to New Haven, Connecti- 
cut, and, at the foot of East Rock, he set up factories for making- fire-ai-ins for 
the Government, He w^as very successful in this, and beside makmg a fortune, 
so greatly improved the machinery and methods of the business, that our country 
owes to him a second debt of gratitude. It was he who first divided factory labor 
so that each part should be made separately, a system which is now used in 
nearly all branches of manufacturing. 

Mr. Whitney was born in Westborough^ Massachusetts, December 8, 1765. 
He di(>d in New Haven, Connecticut, January 8, 1825. 

About the time that Whitney invented the cotton-gin, Robert Fulton, a 
young American painter studying in England, decided to give up art for the sake 
of becoming a civil engineer. The young men, w^hose names are now often men- 
tioned together as the two greatest of early American inventors, were of exactly 
the same age, one a New Englander in Georg-ia, the other a Pennsylvanian in 
England. 



Robert Fulton. 



Fulton had been away from home ever smce he was twenty-two years old, and 
had spent a large part of his tune m studymg- art with Benjamin West, a famous 




Robert Fulton. 



American painter, whose honse in London was always a center for yonng artists 
from the master's native land. But, after several years of study, Fulton felt 
sure that his best Avork woidd be in engineei-ing- i-athei" than art, and he soon 



6 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

proved his ability b^- luakiii^- a. iiuinbei- ol" useiul inventions that were patented, by 
jobs of civil engineering-, and writing- a work on "Canal Navigation," which was 
then a matter of g-reat interest in Europe. In 1797 — that is, when Fulton was 
thii-ty-two yeai's old — the American Minister to the coui't of France, Mr. Joel 
Barlow, invited him to g-o to Paris and live in his family. Fulton accepted the 
invitation, and made his home in the French capital foi; seven years. These were 
spent in making- experiments and in\entions, in managing- the lirst panorama ever 
shown in the l)riniant city, and in studying- sciences and lang-uag-es. He was 
making- up loi- the scant ("ducation of boyhood, for Fulton's pai-ents were so poor 
that lie had l)een put to the Jeweler's ti'ade when very young-. His exti-a time 
had been given to drawing- and |)ain1ing- instead of books, and almost all the 
money he liad earned by selling- his portraits and landscapes he used to l)uy a 
little farm in Peims,ylvania and settle his widowed mother comfortably- before he 
left home. 

In Pliiladeli)hia he had the friendship of Franklin — then a venerable old g-en- 
tleman of about eig-hty years; in England he had s])ent much time with some of 
the g-i-eat scientific men, and in France his g-enius and his noble character won 
friends for lum among- the best people in the country. His thin, active fig-ure, 
his line head and dafk eyes were well known among- them, too; and among- the 
people who untlerstood him he was always looked up to; he had already received 
sevei-al medals and honors, and, Avhat was woi-th nioi-e, the sympathy and con- 
fidence of many persons of inlluence. 

About this time there was a- g-ieat deal of interest and many experiuKMits upon 
th<> use of steajn foi- pi-opellhig- l)oats. A number of ell'orts bad l)een made, but 
no i-eal success was g-ained, until Fulton built a small steamboat, which was tried 
on the Seine and worked well, l)ut was slow. Soon after, he and his lielper and 
friend. Chancellor Livingston, raiue to New York, and ordered of Bolton & Watt, 
the g-reat Eng-lish engine-builders, an eng-ine, with which they began to experi- 
ment upon steamboats foi- use u[)on Amei-ican waters. For many years Fidton 
had been thinking- and wi-iting- about this subject, studying- up all that had ali-eady 
been discovered about it, and watching- every new experiment that was made, and 
laboring- with g-reatest energ-\' to ])ring- his own ideas to pei-fection and into prac- 
tical form, for he felt that such a deed would be of the g-i-eatest benefit, not only 
to Americans upon oin- givat lakes and rivers, but to the world. Month after 
month he worked and li-icd his little side-wheel craft, until finally he was sui-e 
beyond a doubt that he had t'oinid out the secret of moving- a boat by steam. 

When everything- was read\-, an announcement was made in the New York 
paper-s, tlial ])i'ople wishing- to g-o to Albany mig-ht take passag-e in the Clermont, 
■which would leave the fool ol Cortlandt Street, on the Hudson River, Friday 



Robert Fallon. 7 

inorniiiii', Auii'iist 4, 1807, Everybody read tliis notice and was interested and 
talked abont it; but only twelve people took passa^-*^, iov it was generally agreed, 
that one conld scarcely do a more risky thing- than trust his life to that great, 
new-fangled boat with a fire machine inside of it. Many peoi)le had never seen 
a ste;iin-engine, and did not know anything about it, and, while a few gave Ful- 
ton their aid and encouragement, a great many thought him ridiculous. Still, 
there was a great deal of curiosity about his experiment, and ci'owds thronged, 
the wharves, piers, and housetops, and almost the whole water--front of the city, 



-.'. \ 







^5 E S S F :--^->V'' 




Cl-ERMONT. 



and much of tlie I'ivei'-banks tbcough the country, long before the vessel started. 
All along- her route there was the greatest excitement; hats and handkerchiefs 
were waved and shouts of praise greeted the ears of captain, creAV, and passen- 
gers, for the Clermont was a success, steam navig-ation was a reality, and Robert 
Fulton was a great man. The voyage from New York to Albany, a distance 
of a hundred and fifty miles, was made, a.gainst wind and tide, in thirty-two 
hours, and the return trip in thirty. There was a light bi-eeze against \\v,v both 
ways, so that there was no use for the sails, and th(^ voyage was made wholly by 
the power of the steam-engine. Regular trips were now made two or three times 
a week, and in a short time man>' ot her boats, built under Fulton's direction, were 



8 0)16 Hundred Famous Americans. 

plying- tlieir way back and forth on the American rivers, wliile he still labored on 
to make more perfect the machinery of his g-reat invention. 

His fame and success were now firmly assured, and as long- as he lived he was 
employed by the United States Government upon steamboats, canals, and other 
engineering- coiniected with navigation. The torpedoes, or war instruments for 
blowing- up vessels by exploding- under water, which he had invented and showed 
without success to the g-overnments of Europe, were now improved and accepted 
by his own nation, and seven years after the Clermont's first trip, Congress set 
aside three hinidred and twenty' thousand dollars for a steam frig-ate or ship of 
war to be built under Fulton's direction. This was the greatest delight of the 
noble inventor's life. The work was finished the next year, and the Fulton suc- 
cessfully launched. But it was left for the great Swede, John Ericsson, as an 
adopted son of America, to bi-ing* naval warfare to its present hig'h state of per- 
fection. 

Hard and steady Avork, the anxious care and losses of money in lawsuits began 
to affect Mr. Fulton's health, and he died while yet in the prime of life and in the 
midst of his g-reat successes. 

It has been said that no American mechanic has ever lived who had such g-ood 
taste and so earnest a public spirit as Fulton ; while in France he wrote letters to 
Carnot to persuade hint to adopt the principles of free trade ; he urged the people 
of Philadelphia to buy West's pictures to start an American art gallery, and 
when this failed he bought two of the best himself, that America might hold some 
of the work of her first artist ; and these with his other art possessions Avere willed 
to the Academy of New York.' He encouraged and aided American talent wher- 
ever he could, and while carrying- on g-reat studies and experiments upon his 
steamboat and torpedo, he still foiuid time for planning- out a cable-cutter, floating- 
docks, and many other schemes for the advancement of enterprise in his native 
country. He had a noble, patient spirit, keeping- cheerful through all discourage- 
ments and ovei'coming- everything that stood in his way ; and he was so modest and 
quiet with it all, that few of his countrymen knew what a gi-eat man he was until 
they felt the sudden shock of his death. 

Mr. Fulton was born in Little Britain, Pennsylvania, in the year 17G5. He 
died in New York, the 24th of February, 1815. 

Although John Ericsson was born and brought up in the beautiful valleys of 
Central Sweden, and Jived foi- thirteen years in Enghind before he came to America 
— which was in 1 840 — he has been a citizen of the United States for almost half a 
century ; he has done the greater part of his work here, and it is due to his genius 
that the London Times could say twenty years ago that "the plain truth was. 



John Ei'icsson. 



9 



that the United States alone, among- all the nations of the eai'th, had an ii'on-clad 
fleet worthy of the name." 

The first ship Mr, Ericsson built for Amei'ica was the famous Princeton, "a 
g-imcracl^ of sundry inventions" that opened a new era in naval warfare for the 




John Ericsson. 



whole world. In the first place, it moved in the water by means of a propeller 
instead of the paddle or side wheels invented by Fulton. It was this invention 
which brought Mr. Ericsson to America, for the British Admiralty would take no 
notice of it, and our consul to Liverpool, Captain Robert F, Stockton, of the 
Navy, encourag-ed him to appeal to the United States, which he did with success 



10 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

In the Princeton, the propelling- machinery — a simple, direct-acting- steam- 
eng-ine, smaller than any eng-ines of the same power ever used before — and the 
boilers were for the lirst time built below the water-line, out of reach of shot. She 
had also manj' other new contrivances that attracted a g-reat deal of notice. 
Among- them were furnaces and flues arrang-ed to burn either hard or soft coal 
and to save a larg-e amount of fuel, a sliding- telescope smoke-stack, g-un car- 
riag-es with machinery for checking- the gun as it bounds backward or recoils after 
a discharg-e , self-acting- locks, by which g-uns are flred in the rig-ht direction, no 
matter what the motion of the vessel ma^^ be ; and an instrument for finding- out 
in a moment hoAv fai- the ship is from any object. 

Altogether, the Princeton's trial trip proved her a g-rand success. The pro- 
peller alone was such a g-reat improvement that in a few years it completely 
changed the methods of ship-building, both for merchant service and for war. But 
the new era opened by this remarkable ship had a sad beginning-, for the g-rand 
.affair of her public exhibition was scarcely over, when Captain Stockton's " Peace- 
maker," one of her great g-uns, burst with a terrible explosion that killed two of 
the Secretaries in President Tyler's Cabinet, a Commodore in the Navy, and a 
number of otlier persons. 

It had been due to Captain Stockton's efforts that the Government had ordered 
the Princeton, and he had watched the work upon her from the first, and when this 
accident happened to one of his own experiments with large cannon, it was almost 
as fatal to Mr. Ericsson's work for the Navy as to the unfortunate men who stood 
loo near the g-un. Seventeen ^>Tars later, still unpaid by Congress and disap- 
pointed as he was, he had liard work to persuade the Government to accept 
his iron-clad Monitor, even when we were in great need of some sort of poAverful 
war-ship. At last he succeeded, and the much-derided "cheese-box on a plank" 
went down to Hampton Roads on the 8th of March, in the second year of the 
Civil War, and the next day liad all the world speaking- its praise for having- 
defeated and blockaded the moi-e pretentious iron-clad, the Merriniac. This prob- 
ably saved the Union side from losing the war, for the Merriniac was a tei'rible 
thing- against the Northern fleet, and was in a fair way to destroj^ the whole Navy 
when the Monitor met and "whipped" her. The Government then ordered of 
Mr. Ericsson six more such vessels, called monitors after the fii-st of their kind, 
and in a short time the United States had the best navy in the world. The Con- 
federates followed the example, and other nations began at once to give up wooden 
ships, and build iron ones, so that the victory at Hampton Roads caused the mak- 
ing over of the navies of all countries. 

In later years, some of Captain Ericsson's most important work has been in 
inventing- and improving- methods of submarine or under-water warfare, espe- 



John Ericsson. 



11 



cially in the shells called torpedoes ; for it is now likely that even the monitors 
will soon be displaced by another kind of naval warfare. 

While no one has done more than he in making- use of steam, a large part of 
this great inventor's life has also been given to experimenting with heat, so as to 
make use of it foi* a" motor or moving power. 

Long years of hard and patient woi'k have been put upon the caloric engine, 




MONITOK. 



and large sums of money were spent upon his caloi-ic ship, the Ericsson , which 
made a successful trip from New York to Washington in the winter of '51. It 
cost a great deal of money, furnished by New York ]nen, but it only proved that 
heated air cannot fiu-nish, in large quantities, anything like the power of steam. 
This had long been an undecided question, but as soon as the limits of the caloric 
engine ^vere proved the field was open for the great perfections that have since 
been made in the use of steam. But the caloric engine is far from a useless in- 



12 • One Hundred Famous A}itericaus. 

ventioii ; it is of great service when a small amount of power is wanted, and noth- 
ing- can take its place in circumstances where water cannot be obtained. While at 
work upon it Mr. Ei'icsson made many discoveries and showed many facts about 
.heat which have been acknowledged as of great value to science. 

The caloric engine was first brought before the public in 18;]3, and Avas the re- 
sult of the most important studies of the g-reat inventor's life, proving '• that heat 
is an agent which undergoes no cliange, and that onl^^ a small portion of it disap- 
pears in exerting- the mechanical force developed by our steam-eng-ines.'" The in- 
vention attracted much interest among- the leading scientists of the time, and some 
of the g-reatest scholars in London gave lectures to explain it to the people. 

The latter part of Mr. Ericsson's life, which has been spent in New York, has 
been given to perfecting- the solar engine and to study and experiment toward 
making- use of the heat sent out by the burning sands of the great rainless reg-ions 
of both the Old and the New Worlds. This contains a vast amount of power 
which is now wasted, for it neither gives life nor keeps it, but makes Avhat mig-ht 
be fair and loveh^ g-ardens into desolate stretches of barren earth. 

The list of inventions and practical experiments that he made during the first 
ten years of his stay here Avould do credit to the ability of a whole society. Most 
of them were shown in the United States division of the London Industrial Exhi- 
bition in 1851, and received the pi'ize medal of the Exhibition. 

The best known and most important among the inventions Mr. Ericsson made, 
during the thirteen years he spent in Eng-land, were a new kind oi' pinnping--ma- 
chine, engines with surface condensers and no smoke-stack, blowers supplying the 
draft applied to a steamship, and an eng-ine made of a hollow drum, which is 
rotated or turned by letting- in steam, and continues to rotate, for some hours after 
shutting- ott' the steam, at the rate of nine hundred feet per second at the circmn- 
ference, or the speed of London moving- around the axis of the globe. He also 
made an apparatus for making- salt from brine, built machinery for pi-opelling- 
boats on canals, a variety of motors run by steam or hot air, a hydrostatic engine, 
to which the Society of Arts awarded a prize ; an instrument now used a g-reat 
deal in taking soundings without the length of the led line, a file-cutting machine 
and a number of others, maknig- in all about fourteen patented hiventions and 
forty new machines. 

He also was the first to practically apply the principle of condensing steam and 
returning tlie fresh water to the boiler, and, later, to apply the centrifugal fan- 
blowers now used in most of the stream-vessels in the United States. A couple of 
years latcM- he bvult a steam-engine on the Reg-ent's Canal Basin, in which steam 
was first superheated, as four years before he had first used the link motion for 
reversing steam-engines. Tliis was while he was living in England, before he 



T/ioinas J. Rodman. 13 

came to America. He was one of the most important competitors in the famous 
locomotive contest on the Liverpool and Manchester Railroad, when Georg-e 
Stephenson's Rocket took the prize on account of its power to draw loads. Erics- 
son's engine, the Novelty, made thirt}' miles an houi', while the call was for onl}' 
ten. It has been wrongiy stated that the Novelty broke down on this trip. A 
leather diaphi'ag-m of the blowing-machine split, and some of the pipe joints gave 
out, both of which were easily fixed. 

While at work on these inventions, Mr. Ei-icsson showed some new facts 
about steam, which led to its use in ways unthougiit of before ; one of the most 
important being the steam fire-eng-ine, which so astonished London and the world 
at the bui-ning of the Argyle Rooms in 1829. This was " the first time that fire 
was ever put out by the mechanical power of fire." 

It would fill a g-ood-sized book to give the shortest kind of a description of the 
man^^ pi'actical inventions and improvements which Mr. Ericsson has made, 
to say nothing of the very great amount of knowledge his studies and experi- 
ments have added to science. His work has been recognized and his name 
honored all over the woild ; if he wished to, he could write after Ids signature 
scores of learned and knightly titles which have been confeired upon him by the 
Crown in his native land and by the great scieirtific societies of Europe and 
America . 

His life in the roomy old house in Beech Street, New York, has been filled 
with long hours of work for many years, his plan being to divide his time so 
as to make the most of every day, not for pleasures or friends, but for science 
and experiments in the great work of his life. 

Captain Ericsson was born in Langbanshyttan, Sweden, on the 31st of 3\i\y, 
1803. 

The methods of warfare have been improved very much also by General 
Tlioiiias J. Rodman, who graduated from West Point the year after Captain 
Ei'icsson came to Amei-ica. General Rodman invented the fifteen-inch and 
twenty-inch smooth-bore guns, made by hollow casting, and he was the first in 
the world to make a powder which could be used in large cannon. He noticed 
that powder would burn slowly or rapidly according as the amount of one ma- 
terial or another was made more or less — that is, according to the relative pro- 
portion of the ingredients — and upon this idea he made many experiments with 
powders. Seven years before the war broke out, he found the proper way to 
mix the parts so as to form a powder that could be used in modern artillery. 
This is called the Rodman powder ; it was used in the heavy guns of the war, 
and was adopted in Europe as soon as the discover}^ became known. The Eng- 



14 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

lish pebble and pellet powders, and the Russian prismatic powder, have all been 
made after the same idea. 

General Rodman was born in Indiana in 1818, and died in 1871. 

It has been said that Thomas Bltiiicliard has probably given the world more 
labor-saving- machines, which can be put to a greater number of uses and have 
done more for the connnon wants of life, than any other man either in this country 
or Europe. 

Mr. Blanchard was born on a farm in Sutton, Massachusetts, when Whitney 
and Fulton were young men of twenty-three. In 180G, when the Clermont was 
being built, this third great American inventor was a youth of eighteen, begin- 
ning life in his brother's machine-shop at West Millbury. Thomas's work was 
to put heads on tacks by hand, but within a few months after he learned to do 
it, he designed, made, and got to working a machine to make the tacks. It 
turned them out entire, at one motion, faster than the ticking of a watch and 
more finished than those made by hand. 

This machine was kept in use over twenty years, and though many otliers 
were built aftei' it, no necessary improvement has ever been made upon it. After 
a while he sold it for five thousand dollars, which seemed to him a large fortune, 
and, building a shop, fitted it with tools, and shut himself up for two years to 
work out the one idea of devising a machine which should turn the whole of a 
gun-stock. This had long- been tried in vain at most of the armories of the 
world, and was the greatest want in gun manufacture. Thomas heard of it ac- 
cidentally from the proprietor of the extensive shops below Millbury, who, hear- 
ing- of the yoimg genius of the tack-machine, sent for him to see if he could think 
of some way of making their machine for filing the ironwork of guns into 
shape run smoothl3\ When the gentleman saw the bashful, stammering young- 
man, he had little hopes of any help from him. But he showed him the machine 
and explained the difficult^^ After looking at it for a few moments, Thomas 
began a low, monotonous whistle, which he always made when studying deeply, 
and before long he suggested adding a very simple cam motion, which proved just 
the thing wanted. The pro]:)rietor of the armory Avas delighted, and exclaimed : 
"Well, Thomas, I don't know what you won't do next. I would not be sur- 
prised if you turned a gun-stock." As this is neither round nor straight in any 
part, a machine for turning it had long been thought an impossibility, so every- 
body round was surprised when Thomas gave another low whistle and stammered 
out : " We-we-well, I'll try that." The workmen all laughed, but Thomas was 
in earnest, and began at once to think out the machine. He alixnidy had the first 
principle of it in the cam motion, and not long after he worked out the whole idea 



Thomas Blanchard. 



15 



clearly in his mind. He was riding- home alone from the Springfield armory-, to 

which he had been called to make an adjustment to the butt-tiling- machine like 

that at Millbury, deep in thought, when suddenly some men by the roadside 

heard him call out : "I've got it! I've got it! I've got it!" He then sold his 

tack-machine, built the shop, and for two years only left his work for rest. But at 

the end of that time he had perfected a smooth-i'uniiing stocking-machine, or lathe 

for turning gun-stocks, which was soon found to be api)licable to a hundred other 

uses, and by which there are also 

made the wheel-spoke, piano-leg, 

shoe-lasts, and many other curious 

articles and tools of wood. It is 

the machine for turning any irreg- 

iQar forms according to the given 

pattern. It is made up of two 

points that hold the piece of wood 

to be turned, as in any lathe ; a 

revolving cutting-tool, whicli is set 

in a traveling carriage and has also 

a side, or what is called lateral 

movement on the carriage ; an iron 

pattern and the pieces that keep 

the cutting- tool in pkice so as to 

follow the pattern. There is a 

di'um with a belt that follows the 

cutting-tool as it advances along 

the lathe. 

This wonderful invention, which 
has been applied to hundreds of 
uses, has already been worth mill- 
ions of dollars to America, to 

England, and to France. It has proved so great a benefit to this country that Mr. 
Blanchard had his patent renewed three times by Congress, and received quite a 
good deal of money for it, although far less than its value, while he also lost a 
great deal in lawsuits. 

Even in the course of a few years, there were " more than fifty violators who 
pirated Mr. Blanchard's invention, and started up lathes in various parts of the 
country for making lasts, spokes, and other irregular forms. Combined and re- 
peated efforts were made to break down his patent. Eminent counsel wei'e em- 
ployed and all Europe scoured to find some evidence of a similar motion. But in no 




Tiio:\iAS Blanchard. 



16 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

ag-e, in no country, could a trace be found of a revolving- cutting--tool working- to 
any given model like Blanchard's. Like the reaper, the revolver, and the sewing-- 
niachine, it had a general and unlimited application. It was really a discovery of 
a new in-iiiciple in mechanics, whereby the machine is made the obedient, faithful 
servant of man, to work out his designs after any g-iven model — be it round or 
square, sti-aight or crooked, however irregular — and reproduce the original form 
exactly every time.'' 

After he brought out this machine, he made many more valuable inventions 
and discoveries. He made a new kind of steamboat to tide over rapids and shal- 
low water, by means of which navigation now extends hundreds of miles further 
up our rivers than before. He devised a process for bending- large timber at any 
ang-le, without weakening it. This is of great advantag-e for ship-builders, who 
used to have much trouble in finding- timber grown to the right angle for knees of 
vessels. Mr. Blanchard also invented the oval slate frame, the method of making 
the handles of sho\'els by steam-bending, which saved just one-half of the timber 
and made a far more durable handle ; and this, like his lathe, has been made useful 
in a great many ways — arm-chairs, thills, and whoel-fellies, which used to be only 
made in four sections, are now in one straight strip bent to a circle. 

Mr. Blanchard waiB born at Sutton, Massachusetts, on the 24th of June, 1788. 
He died in Boston, April IG, 1804. 

The electric telegraph cost Samuel Fiiiley Breese Morse twelve years 
out of the prime of his life. They were years of the severest kind of self-sacrifice, 
labor, and disappointment for the sake of an idea ; but they were crowned with 
success at last, and his invention was pronounced "the greatest triumph which 
human genius ever obtained over space and time." The idea was not original 
with Professor Morse ; steps toward it had been made by several scientific workers 
from the beginning of the century. It was in October of 1832, wiien the good 
ship Sully was on her way from Havre to New York, that one of her passengers 
suddenly thought of sending signals on wires over distances by the means of elec- 
tricity. This passenger was Mr. Morse, a talented American artist, who had 
fallen into talk with an American professor upon electricity,— how old Benja- 
min Franklin drew it from the clouds along a slender wire, and about the new 
discoveries which had just been made in France by which electric sparks were 
ol)tained from the magnet. Mr. Morse said he thought that a signal system 
might be planned out on the same principle. As both the gentlemen had studied 
electricity, they found it very interesting to talk upon this subject day after day, 
and they suggested to each othef many possible and impossible ways in which 



Sanniel Finley Breese Morse. 



17 



they thouglit the sig-nahng mig-ht be done. But in the artist's mind the thoug'ht 
was more than interesting- talk with a fellow-passeng-er. It toolv deep root, and 
broug-ht i'ortli the great idea of tlie telegraph, but not according to any of the 
plans suggested on the voyage. From that time, although more than forty 




Samuel Finley Breese Morse. 



years of age, Mr. Morse gave up painting and all else beside to devote his mmd, 
his money, and everything that he had to the working out of a practical system 
of communication by means of electricity. He had begun to study this science 
at Yale College when a very young man, and in later years, while he gave 
up most of his time to art, he had always kept up the study of chemistry and 



18 



One Hundred Famous Americans. 



physics, especially electrical and g-alvanic experiments, and making- practical in- 
ventions. This had been a pleasure and a pastime to him before, but now it was 
life-work. He resolved to spend the whole of his life if necessary to the practi- 
cal development of this new idea. 




Transmitting Key. 



By the time he reached New York, all liis plans were arranged. The alphabet 
was made and sketches of his machineiy were drawn out in his note-book : he was 
ready for work, and he would spai'e hunself in no way till he had succeeded. It 
was a terrible struggle with want and discouragement. Time after time it didn't 




Morse's Recording Telegraph. 

come out right. Money went, and all his labor brought none in. He had three 
motherless children to support, beside everything else ; but with sympathy from his 
brother and friends, and faith in God and himself, he did not give up. Every 
iime his model failed to do what he intended, he found the flaw and worked it 
out, until at last all was correct and he knew he liad i-eached success. But the dark 



Samuel Finley Breese Morse. 



19 



(lays were not yet past. Our Government refused to do anything- with it ; he tried 
in vain to have it patented in Engiand, and, returning- home, had almost despaired 
of its adoption in tlie United 

™T1 





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i i i i 



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n i Hi 



liiiiiiiii'iiiiii;!! 



I i 

I I liMilli Bill 

i i lEiaiii 
] Hiwa i!iJiiB 
i i Bsm 11 i i 



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I I i HilMlM 1 S 



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States, when, in 1843, at mid- 
night, the last moment of tlie 
spring session, Congress set aside 
thirty thousand dollars for tri- 
al, and gave permission to set 
up a line between Washington 
and Baltimore for experiment. 
This was done just before the 
sitting of the Democratic conven- 
tion in 1844. with the Washing- 
ton end in a room adjoining what 
was then the Supreme Coiu't 
Room. Here Mr. Morse receiv- 
ed the despatches fi-om the con- 
vention and read them to a large 
crowd that gathered around the 
window. Everybody was in- 
tensely interested, not only to 
hear from the convention, but 
with the wonderful way in which 
the news came. They could not 
realize that it was possible to 
learn in a moment just what was 
happening at Baltimore, and 
when it was said that Mr. Polk 
was nominated, thei'e were many 
who thought it far safer to wait 
till they heard direct by mail or 
messenger coming on the train. 
But the telegraph was a success 
beyond a doubt — it was not fairy 
w^ork or a dream, and its noble 
author received honors, medals, 
and wealth for the untold bene- 
fits of his discovery. Even then, he was not free from care and trouble. Several 
wearisome and costly lawsuits ^v ere brought against him by people who contested 



^0 10 oa 

Iiii 

i i PBili 




Morse's Transmitting Plate. 




SECONDS. 



20 



Oup Hundred Faincms Americans. 



his claims, all of which were settled in his favor aft^er a while. Beside the honors 
paid to him in this country, it is said that no American ever received so many or 
so great honors as were paid him in Europe, for beside the g-old medals and 
insignia presented by several of the great sovereigns, a large purse was made 
up by an assembly of representatives from dilferent European countries that met 
in Paris about 1857. 

About twenty years before this, Wheatstone, of England, invented another 
kind of telegraphing apparatus, but that of Professor Morse was so much simpler 
that it easily took the lead. 

Besides the telegraph system which Professor Morse iiei-fected and the i-ecording 
instrument, and se\eral other valuable inventions, he took the tirst daguerreot^-pes 
in America, made a piunp-machiue for fire-engines, and, in later years, laid the 
first telegraph under water. This was an experiment tried in New York Harbor 
in 1S42, and he was so much interested iu it that in the next year he wrote to the 

Secretary of the Treasury, sug- 
gesting an Atlantic telegi-aph, 
Avhich was afterward brought to 
perfection b,N' the energy of Mr. 
Cyrus W. Field, of New York. 

Pi'ofessoi- Morse was born 
in Charlestown, Massachusetts, 
April 27, 1791 ; he di(>d in New 
York April 2, 1S7-*. 

The great invention of Pro- 
fessor Morse had but half its 
present value and us(^fuliiess un- 
til Cyrus West Field carried 
it across the Atlantic Ocean 
and united the two continents by its magic wire. 

He was a retired merchant, about thirty-five years of age, when he lirst be- 
came interested in a water or marine telegraph. Some enterprising men had 
tried to build a wire across the island of Newfoundland, the most easterly point 
on the American coast, and to ha\'e this connect with a line of fast steamers, 
which, it was thought, could reach the nearest point in Ireland in five days. In 
this way, news could be carried from one continent to the other inside of a week. 
An attempt had ali-eady been made to build the line, but it had failed, and now 
it was wanted that some rich men would take hold of it and carry it through. 
?.Tr. Field was avcII known as an able, enterprising, and wealthy man, who had 




Atlantic Telegraph Cable, 1866. 



Cyrus West Field. 



31 



built up a large business in New York from the smallest kintl of a beginning-. 
He was sti-ongly urged to take hold of this scheme, which, if well carried out, 
would be of great benefit to the country and a paying success. He agreed to 
think about it, and sat in his library, turning over a globe and considering, when 
the thought suddenly came to him, •' Why not carry the line across the ocean ? " 
The more he thought of it the surer he felt that this should be his vuidertaking. 




The Breaking of the Cable. 

The next year he obtained from the Legislature of Newfoundland the sole right 
for flfty years of landing telegraph cables on the island from both Europe and 
America. He formed a stock company at once, and in a couple of years organ- 
ized the ''Atlantic Telegraph Company " in London, furnishing one-fourth of the 
capital himself. The governments of Great Britain and the United States pro- 
vided ships, and the flrst expedition to lay the wire set out in 1857. This and 
another in the next year botli proved failures. Then some time passed, and a 
third trial was made, which succeeded in laying a cable. But this gave out in 
about a month. 



22 



One Hundred Famous Americans. 



Eleven years had now passed, and still the Atlantic telegraph was only a 
scheme. Many of the stockholders were discouraged, and Mr. Field and his ocean 
cable were ridiculed by the people and the press of Europe and America, But he 
never lost faith in the entei'prise, though its money and friends were fast growing 
less. 

The next ,year the Great Eastern was sent out to make another attempt. In 
mid-ocean the cable laid the year before was picked up antl joined to the cable on 
board, and so the line was once more connected, and the vessel, safely making her 




The Great Eastern at Anchor. 



way to Newfoundland, landed the western end of the ocean wire. The tests were 
made again and again, with perfect success. The great value of the work was 
acknowledged in both countries. Several of the English gentlemen who had giv- 
en their money and influence in helping along the work were honored with 
knighthood, and in America the greatest honors were bestowed upon Mr. Field. 
Congress gave him the thanks of the nation, a gold medal, and other testimonials, 
showing that they looked upon his work as one of the greatest achievements of the 
century. The French Exposition, whicli was held after the cable had stood the 
test of about a year's service, gave him its grand medal. This was its highest 
award and was only given to those who had proved themselves great public ben- 



Charles Goodyear. 



23 



^factors. The thirteen years of labor amid discouragements and ridicule brought 
him full reward. Since then he has taken active and helpful interest in the laying 
of under-water cables in the Mediterranean and different parts of the East, and in 
the establishment of elevated railroads in New York City. 

Mr. Field was born at Stockbridge, Massachusetts, on the 30th of November, 
1819, and is now living in New York City. 

It was by the patient, heroic labor of Charles Goodyear, in one blind exper- 
iment after another, that the process was discovered by which vulcanized India- 










Charles Goodyear. 



rubber can be made out of the sap of the African gum tree. It cost him eleven 
years and a half of the best part of his life, and for it he suffered poverty, disgrace 
for debts, and ridicule — sacrifices which were never made up to him, although he 
lived to see his invention used in five hundred different ways, and giving employ- 
ment in England, France, Germany, and the United States to eighty thousand 
persons, and producing eight million dollars' worth of goods every year. 

About fifty years ago, Mr. Goodj^ear, then a bankrupt hardw^are merchant of 
Philadelphia and nearly thirty-five years old, became interested, with about every- 
body else, in the wonderful trade of the many India-rubber companies that were 



24 One HiiiKlrcd Fuinoni^ Aniericans. 

making- g-reat quantities of g-oods of many kinds. Being- in New York, one day^ 
lu^ bought one of tlie new India-rubber life-preservers that the Roxbury Com- 
})any liad just brouglit t)ut. He took it liome, and true to liis Connecticut birth,, 
began to examine it for the sal^e of seeing how it was made and if liecoukl impi-ove 
on it. He soon made ujj his mind upon both these questions, and befoi'e long- he was. 
ag-ain at the Roxbury's office with a plan, whicli he Avanted them to adopt. The- 
company was not able to undertake to make these improved apparatuses; but the 
man in charg-e saw the ingenuity of Mr. Goodyear's plan, and told him a sad little 
story, in lio]ies that he had found some one who would add another chapter to- 
the tale and make it come out all i-ight in the end. The story was something- like 
this : 

" There are, Mr. Goodyear, a great many India-rubbei- companies in the United 
States just now that seem to be doing- a very fine business, but really and truly 
they are not. The.y are all a g-ood deal like our company ; we made, diu-ing- the- 
cool months of 1833 and 1834, a very larg-e quantity of shoes and other rubber 
g-oods, and sold them to dealers at hig-h prices ; but in the summer a g-reat many 
of them melted, so that twenty thousand dollars' woi-th of om- articles were returned 
to us melted down in common g-uni that smelt so badly we had to bury it. We've- 
ti-ied mixing- new materials with the i-aw rubber, and new machinery, but even if 
our shoes can bear the heat of one sunnner, they will melt the next. Wagon- 
covers, overcoats, hats, and rubber-cloth grow sticky in the sun and stift' in the 
cold. The dir-ectoi-s of the companies don't know what to do. They'll be ruined 
if they stop making-, and the whole of the wintei-'s work may melt on their hands, 
as soon as warm weather comes. The capital of this company is already used up,, 
and unless the true way to use this gum is found — and that soon — the company 
will have to go down in complete ruin. Now, while the g-entlemen cannot take- 
Ibis improved life-preserver of yom-s, if you can only find out some way to make 
India-rubber that will stand the summer heat and the winter cold, tliey will gladly 
g-ive alnio.st anything- .you ask for that," 

It seemed like a chance talk, but it fixed the life-work of Chai-les Goodyear.. 
He made up his mind — oi- rather the thought grew in hhn like a presentiment — 
that this g-reat object could be g-ained, and he should do it ; and yet he knew little 
about chemistry, and disliked any complicated calculations, and had no money to- 
start with. Owing- to tlie failui-e of some business houses with which his falher's- 
firm was coimected, the hardware house of A. Goodyear & Sons Avas bankrupt,. 
and Charles was arrested for debt ahuost as soon as he reached home. He had 
a family, was in ratlier poor healtli, and seemed to have every reason to give 
up his idea about India-rub])(M-, and to find some paying Avork at once. 

But nothing could cliani:*' his mind (ii- discourage him. Li\"iny Avilhin tlu- 



Charles Goodyear. 25- 

prison limits, he beg-an his expeiiments, for India-rubber .i>-nm was one of the- 
easiest tiling-s in the world to obtain in those da3's. It was lilind woi'k, and success 
was long in coming". He was seldom out of jail for debt during any year from 
1835 to 1841, and although the interest and the aid of his friends gave out, he 
patiently kept on in his trails, never being- too sure, however near he felt to suc- 
cess, and never becoming- altogether discouraged when his beautiful work melted 
with the summer's heat into a soft, bad-smelling mass of gum. He explained his 
difficulties to the great professors, physicians, and chemists of the day, but none 
of them could help him. 

The story of failure after trial was repeated time and again in Philadelphia, 
and then in New York, until it was amazing-, and too often provoking to those who 
loved him, that his patience lasted so long-. But perseverance was the gi-eatest trait- 
in Charles Goodyeai-'s character. Next to that was his love of l)eanty. This was 
the reason that he often decorated his India-rubber fabrics, and it led at length to 
his first real step toward success. He was bronzing- the surface of some India- 
rubber drapery, and, wisliiug to take off a little of the bronze, he applied af^ua- 
fortis, which not only tookoff the bronze but discoloi-ed tlu' fal^iic so Ihat it seemed 
spoiled, and Mr. Goodyear thi-ew it away. Several days after, he hapi)ened to think 
that he had not examined the effect of the aquafortis very closelx' ; lie hurried 
to find the piece lie had thrown away, and was surprised to see that it was a 
better quality of rubber than he had ever obtained before, especiallx' in In^aring- 
heat. 

He had his process patented, and even then did not know that lie had found 
his great secret, and that aquafortis is two-fifths sulphuric acid. Securing his patent 
and approval and some mone3', he still was far from out of his troubles ; the pawn- 
broker, poverty, and severe want for his family were the every-day circumstances. 
of his life. He succeeded in manufacturing- his goods, but now nearly all the- 
men of means or enterprise in the country hated the very name of India-i-ubber, 
with good cause ; the sticky, bad-smelling- summer experiences had ruined many 
wealthy capitalists and bankrui)ted scores of hrms. Mr. Goodyear was called a 
man of one idea, a crazy man, and so he seemed with his enthusiasm for liis rub- 
ber, which he wore in every form — cap, coat, shoes, and many other things, 
both for the sake of testing- and of advertising- it. At last he found a few men 
of the old Roxbury Company who could not get over their belief in the u.seful- 
ness of the rubber, and together they started up a new business, Avhich prospered 
greatly for a time. But Mr. Goodyear again became penniless and destitute when 
it was found that the aquafortis only vulcanized tlie sur-face and not the entire- 
fabi-ic. Every one, even his own family, now tried to dissuade him from doing any 
more with the stuff' which had caused such ruin. But he could not give it up, and 



26* One Hundred Famous Americans. 

.buying" out another experimenter's invention for mixing" the g"um Avitli sulpliur, lie 
patiently set to work once more on his half -blind experiments — work, too, which he 
might have been spared long befoi-e if he had had a bettei" knowledge of chemistiy. 
The secret lay near at hand, but for months he coidd not g'rasp it, until, one 
day in the spring- of 1839, an accident revealed to him that a mass of g'umand sul- 
phur mixed would not melt after they had happened to hit ag"ainst a i-ed-hot 
stove I He tested it and ti-ied it in various ways, but the result was the same ; he 
had succeeded at last, and he now knew for a surety that g-um and sulphiu' mixed 
and put undei' g-reat heat would afterward stand both heat and cold. He felt 
himself amply repaid for the past, he said, and quite inditferent about the future. 

He spent six years more in the hardest trials and severest labors of all, w^ork- 
ing- this discovery out to a practical success, and patientl^^ perfecting one thing- 
rafter another until he had his inventions secured b3^ sixty patents. But even 
then he Avas not allowed his full reward, for the rig"hts were obtained by other 
persons in England and in France, and his j^ears of toil and hardship brought 
him onl}' scant returns in money. But he was happy that he had been success- 
ful, because the work and not the reward was what he labored foi". The woild 
acknowledged his services, and awarded him honors for his skill and perseve- 
rance. Highly as h© thought of the value of his discovery, he did not overesti- 
mate it. " Art, science, and humanity' are indebted to him for a material which 
is nseful to them all, and serves them as no other known mateiial could.'" 

Ml'. Goodj'ear Avas born in New Haven, Connecticut, December 29, 1800. 
He died in New York City, July 1, 18G0. 

In the early part of this century, when Goodyear was in the hardware business 
in Philadelphia, without a thought for India-rubber, and wdien Morse was studying- 
to become an ai'tist, and only amusing" himself with electricity, Cyrus Hall 
McCormick was a lad in his teens, living" on a farm in Vii-ginia, and watch- 
ing his father trj' in vain to make a reaping"-machine. Some of his time was 
spent in the public school, but the larger part of it was passed in helping upon 
the plantation. This being a large one, there were on it several saw and g-rist 
mills, a carpenter's shop and a blacksmithy, which Avere more interesting" than 
books or tutors to the planter's eldest son. From them and the farm work he g-ot 
the most important part of his education. 

AVhen alwut fifteen 3"ears old, he contrived a light, easy-acting- g-rain-cradle, 
for he Avanted to do his share of the harA^esting", and coidd not manag"e the un- 
handy cradle in general use. It Avas only a couple of years after this that he 
iiiA'ented a hill-side plow, Avhich Avas the first self-shai'i^ening plow cA^er made. 

With so much love for machinery, and a facultj^ for in\'ention himself, he was 



Cyrus Hall McCormick. 



27 



of course very much interested in his father's efforts, as he watched him try for 
years to do wliat had been attempted in vain ag-ain and again since the days of the 
first Christian century — to contrive a machine for reaping-. He wanted to try his 




Cyrus Halt. McCormick. 



own hand upon it, he had succeeded so well with the cradle and the plow ; but his 
father at first said no, it would be but time wasted : a reaper could not be 
made. At last, though, he consented, and his son — then almost grown into man- 
hood — took up the discarded machine. He g'ave his whole mind to picking out the 



28 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

difficulties that prevented its working-, till tinally he had mapped out an entirely- 
new plan. Gradually he grasped the problem, and realized what would be the 
devices necessary to cut g-rain as it stands in the field, and his mind became filled 
with the details and arrang-ements of the wondei'f id reaper. He saw that the cutting- 
must be done by an edged instrument, actin'g with what is called a i-eciprocaiing 
inovement as the machine moved along- ; then he realized that it must liave the 
reel to gather and hold up the grain in a body ; then the sickle, with its fast recip- 
rocating and slow advancing motions ; and, finally, that there must be a receiving- 
platform on which the grain could fall and be taken care of. These were the great 
problems. After they were discovered, lie had only to make the parts so that 
they would act together upon Avheels. Tlien he began to build. Step by ste]i his 
ideal grew toward the perfect machine, the inventoi- himself constructing cranks, 
drive-wheels, gear-wheels, dividers, cutting-blades, gathering-reels, and all the 
other parts, until he finally had a reaper that could cut grain passably well with 
a man a\ alking l)esicle it to draw the swatli from the platform, while another man,, 
or a boy, rode on the back of the horse that dragged the nu\cliine through the 
field. 

In 1831 — that is, when Mr. McCormick was twenty-two years old — this reaper 
was tested before a yumber of leading Virginia farmers ; it cut several acres of 
oats successfully, and in the next year harvested fifty acres of wheat. It was cer- 
tainly a success. There was no doubt about its value, but Mr. McCormick felt' 
that farmers would not take hold of it yet, so for several years he made no efforts to 
develop it any further or to introduce it as it was. But letting it rest, he went into 
the iron smelting business, which promised to pay sooner and better. Instead, it 
brought misfortune, for the hard times of '31 came on, and, in the midst of the 
panic, Mr. McCormick's partner became frightened and left him, and the business 
failed. 

But the forsaken partner did not fail. By hard and steady work, courage, 
patience, and economy, he paid ail the debts, and won back his l)usiness standing. 
Although he came out of difhculty without a bit of money for himself, he had 
maintained the confidence of all who knew him and kept his honor and integrity 
unshaken. As soon as all the claims were settled, he turned to the reaper, which 
was already secured to him b}^ patents. He made some valuable improvements on 
it at once, and then moved to Cincinnati, which was at that time the center of the 
grain-growing region of the AVest. In a couple of years he moved again and set- 
tled in Chicago, where he set up his own factories and began to get himself fairl.>' 
established in the reaper manufacturing business. Up to within a few^ years of 
this time, he had had a great many set-backs and discom-agements, for Avhile he 
wt;nt about himself a great deal, introchiciuii- the machines. li(> had not been al)le to 



Cyrus Hall McCormick. 



29 



do his own manufacturing-; his makers as well as his ag-ents had not always ful- 
filled their contracts, and in man3' cases the reapers had failed to work. From 
1831 to 1840, he only sold one machine, and that he took back. All the time he 
kept dilig-ently at work studying- the defects and correcting- them, depending- upon 
other business for his support and the income necessary to perfect and introduce 
the machines. 




Reaping Machine. 

It was in about the year 1840 that they beg-an to g-ive him satisfaction ; then he 
was willing- to sell them and Avas successful in finding- customers. After they had 
been thoroug-hly tested and were fairly in use among- the farmers in this country, he 
went to Europe to introduce them abroad. He took them to the g-reat World's Fair 
in London, in 1851, and g-ood-naturedl^^ stood all the ridicule that the papers and vis- 
itors made of his "monstrosity," knowing- that he should prove its value when he 
put it to work. The London Times said it seemed to be something- like a cross be- 
tween an Astley chariot, a wheelbarrow, and a fl3ing--macliine. A few weeks later it 



30 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

was Mr. McCormick's turn to ridicule English stupidity — if he had had any desire 
to — for after the reaper had been thoroug'hly tested on several farms, it was voted 
by all as the most important thing- in the g-reat Fair. The Times itself said its- 
value was equal to the cost of the entire Exhibition. Among- all the other farm- 
ing tools and machinery shown — and there were many of them fi'om all countries. 
— this received the Great Medal, The papers turned from ridiculing- to praising, 
and Mr. McCormick suddenly found himself a very famous man. He was hon- 
ored as having- done more for agriculture than an^^ person of his time. The Cross 
of the Leg-ion of Honor was awarded to him in Paris, and — some years after that — 
he received the still g-reater distinctions of Officer of the Legion of Honoi- and of 
an election to the French Academy of Science. 

Unlike many inventors Mr. McCormick was a man of business, and as soon as his 
invention was developed into a successful reaper he undertook to fill the demand for 
it himself ; and, though he had several partners, he was always at the head of the bus- 
iness. At the same time he kept on studying to further improve his already wonder- 
ful machine. Stage by stage, it grew till it became the self-acting and, as it seems, 
absolutely perfect reaper of to-day— a machine that cuts both g-rass and grain, 
and more than that : without having to stop in its course across the field, it gathers 
what it cuts into sheaves, binds them securely with twine, and puts them safely on 
tlie ground . All this it does of itself, or automatically, as we say. The only person 
needed upon it is the one who di-ives the horses that draw it, and Avho sits on a high 
seat in front. Its working is so true and so simple that a boy or gir-l can manage it. 

When the Chicago works were finished, Mr. McCormick had not much capital 
and took a large risk in undertaking- to build seven hundred machines for the har- 
vest of 1848, but they w^ere all sold, and their maker had the satisfaction of feelings 
that the future success of his reaper was now assured. After conducting- the 
business in Chicago for over thirty years — either by himself or with various part- 
ners at different times — in 1880 it was made into a joint stock company with a 
paid-up capital of two millions and a half of dollars, Mr. McCormick being- Presi- 
dent, and his brother, who had been in partnership with him for twenty years, 
Vice-President. 

Four years after its incorporation, the McCormick Harvesting- Machine Com- 
pany was said to have a capital of three millions of dollars invested in their w^orks, 
with eighteen hundred men employed in the busy seasons, turning out nearly 
fifty-fivt! thousand machines a year. In all, it is stated, they have sold over three 
hundred thousand reaping and mowing- machines, and as each of these does the 
Avork of ten persons, an army of three millions of men would be necessary to do 
what is now being done by them. Large numbers of them are sent every year to 
New Zealand, Australia, Africa, South America, Russia, Germany, Italy, Spain, 



Elias Hoive. '61 

France, and Great Britain. Tliej^ have done more for the enlarg-ement and de- 
velopment of the world's ag-ricnlture than any other single invention of ancient or 
modern times ; and it is largely due to them that the United States has become 
foremost among- all countries in agriculture, that our great growth in wdieat- 
raising has outstripped the record of any department of agriculture in any coun- 
try during the past thirty years, and that our hay-harvest has grown to be the 
most valuable of all the crops our land produces. 

When the venerable inventor died, his son and namesake took his place in the 
great business, and in the many good works with which he shared his prosperity. 
Mr. McCormick was very generous with his wealth, especially to the Presbyterian 
Church and to the city of Chicago. In his fiftieth year — the same in which he 
was married — he founded and endowed his great charity, the Presbyterian Theo- 
logical Seminary of the Northwest, in Chicago. Beside his first large gift, he 
aided the school bountifully for many years, luitil it was thoroughly established. 
He also gave money to pay for a iDrofessorship in the Washington and Lee Uni- 
versit}' at Lexington, Virginia. 

After the great fire of 1871 he was one of the first to i-ebuild in the burnt dis- 
tricts of Chicago, and at the time of his death, he was the owner of some of the 
finest blocks of l)uildings in the city. He was ahvays much interested in the 
progi'ess and welfare of Chicago, and gave liberally toward education and other 
public benefits. 

Cyrus H. McCormick was born at Walnut Grove, Virginia, February 15, 1809. 
He died in Chicago, Illhiois, May 13, 1884. 

Elias Howe set to work to invent a sewing-machine for two reasons. One- 
was that his health was too poor for him to follow his regular business of a 
machinist, and he thought he could support his family by making an invention. 
The other reason was that he knew there was great need in the world of a 
machine that could sew. He was at this time about twenty-three years old, low 
spirited, and frail in health, with a wife and three children. Life had not been 
successful to him so far. When sixteen years old he had left the work on his. 
father's farm and in his mill to be a machinist in Lowell, Massachusetts, and from 
there he went to Cambridge, bai-ely earning a living on accoimt of poor health. 
One day he heard some men talking in the shop about the great value that a 
sewing-machine would be, and from that time the thought of inventing one filled 
all his leisure, and finally became the business of his life. 

After intently watching Mrs. Howe ply her needle through the cloth as she 
sewed, he tried for a year to make a machine that would work somewhat like a 
hand. Then he thought that another stitch was needed, and by and by the idea. 



~32 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

-came to him of using" two threads and forming a stitch with the aid of a shuttle 
and using- a cin-ved needle with the eye near the point. Being- poor himself, and 
his father also, he had to look about for some one to aid him cany out these 
ideas. Mr. Geoi-g-e Fisher, a wood and coal dealer of Cambridge, finally ag-reed 
to furnish five hundred dollars in money, and to have Mr. Howe and his family 
mal^e their home in his house, while the g'arret should be the workshop for mak- 
ing the machine. In return for all this a half interest in the patent, if one could 
be obtained, should g-o to Mi-. Fisher. Day after clay, and often part of the 
nig'ht, too, Ehas Howe labored ovei- his invention. In April, 1845, a seam was 
sewed, and in July a woolen suit for Mr. Fisher and one foi- Mr. Howe were nmde 
Avith tlie machine. The invention was at last complete and patented, but nobody 
wovdd l)u.\- it, or use it. People said the machine was ingenious and useful, no 
doubt, but they would not buy one. Mr. Fisher was disgusted, and the Howes 
all had to go back to Elias's father's house. Old Mr. Howe could not support 
them, and so the inventor got a place as engineer on a railwa^^ locomotive, while 
he sent his brother Aniasa to England to s€'e what he could do there with the 
model. 

Finally some arrangements were agreed upon with a corset-maker, and Elias 
with his wife and children went to London, but it was only another disappointment, 
-and after a little whilfe he had to send his destitute family back to fathei- Howe at 
Cambridge, while he strove further with his machine. But he met with no suc- 
cess, and was forced at last to pawn his model and patent-papers for money 
enough to buy his passage back to America. 

On landing in New York, he found that his wife was dying of consumption in 
Cambridge, while he was without money to pay his fare to her and too weak to 
■walk. As soon as possible, his father or friends sent him something, and he 
reached home just in time to see the spirit of his wife pass away. 

This was the darkest hour of all his life. He had seemed to spend his whole 
self, labor, talents, and time for nothing ; death, poverty, and sickness filled his 
home — or was the trouble he brought into his father's home, for he had none of 
his own — and he could not help feeling that thrifty and industrious people had 
some reason to despise his want of success. Poor Mrs. Howe's death was the 
last shadow on the misfortunes of her sufTering husband. If she had lived, she 
wovdd liave seen better days, from the very month of his I'eturn. 

His invention had been taken up by some imprincipled mechanics and many 
.sewing-machines had been made after it, so that the name of the original in- 
ventor had become cpiite famous in his absence. Friends now came foi'ward 
with money to help him, and in 1846 he began suits against those who had stolen 
his patents. After six years of hard fighting, the courts decided these suits in 



Elias Hoiue. 33 

his favor. He opened a. small factory in New York, which yielded some prolits, 
while the royalties of other machines added to his income, so that he linally made 
a fortune of two million dollars, although a portion of this had to be spent in de- 




Elias Howe. 



fending- his patent. He lived to see the machine over which he had labored so 
hard and lost so much that could never be repaired, appreciated as one of the 
g-reatest labor-saving- contrivances in the world, while the manufacturing- of them 
g-ave a living- to tens of thousands of mechanics, yielded for.tunes to the manu- 
facturers, and a revenue of millions to the United States. Honors came to him. 



34 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

as well as wealth at last. He received the Ci'oss of the Legion of Honor, and a 
^okl medal from the Paris Exposition. 

Many attempts had been made to sew l)\- machineiy before Mr. Howe's day, 
but his succeeded. His machine would actually do the woi'k, and his name is 
now honored far and wide for the labor he has savetl to millions by bravely 
keeping- on in spite of the weary toil and poverty- he endui-ed while patientl;\' work- 
ing- out his idea. 

It has been said, that the life-histor\' of this man, with its strivings, its failures, 
and the long warfare for his rights, teaches the grandest lessons of i)atience and 
earnest strug-g-le, wliile its final triumph of mechanical and tinancial success 
opened the way for an army of workers who, in following his steps, have bi-ought 
forth a multitude of improvements and additions, which are a source of immense 
wealth and save a vast amount of labor to both the men and Avomen of liis own 
countiy and Europe. 

When the war broke out, Mr. Howe entered the ai-my as <i common soldier ; auti 
once, when the pay of the regiment was dela\-ed, he advanced the money himself. 

Elias Howe was born in Spencer, Massachusetts, July 9, 1819. He died in 
Brooklyn, New York, October 3, 18(57. 

Thomas Alva Edison is the g-reatest of modern mventors. It has been 
said : " He is the leader of a^ new school, who do not work by blind experiment, 
but b}' the law of probability. He asks questions of nature by finding out first 
all the known, then proving it over again by re-trial. Then he considers Avhat is 
probable, and begins his experiments upon what is most natural in the imknown. 
No blind g-uessing. A careful, deliberate search in a new direction. Such a man 
adds to the sum of human knowledge at ev(^)-y step, and every new discovery is 
a proved fact, useful forever after. He arrives at things because he has the 
compass of jiersonal knowledge. He is the most remarkable iuA-entoi- who ever 
lived. The lesson of his life is found in the fact that he has j^roved that invention 
is an art and not a happy g-iiessing, that discovery is a wise search, not a drifting 
in the fogs of ignoi-ance. His life is the g-reatest incentive to our young people 
to be found in modem history. It teaches to work, it (H)ints out the new path, 
at once laborious, scientific, exact, and ending- at success." 

The first time that Mr. Edison became widely known was in about 18T0. He 
had failed in testing- his dui)lex telegraph between Rochestei- and Boston, and 
came to New York to do something, he scarcel^^ knew Avhat. One da\' he lia[)- 
pened to be in the office of the Gold Indicatoi- Company when their appaj-atus 
gave out. It was. in the midst of some excitement, and when Edison oifei-ed to 
fix it, the brokers felt desperate enough to let him tr,\-, although the,^• dul not be- 



Thomas Alva Edison. 



35 



lieve he could do any good. But he succeeded in adjusting- the instrument, and so 
deli^-hted the managers with his appearance of worth and ability- that they made 
hinr superintendent of the company. He set up improved apparatus, invented 




r|ti 



li Uuli| llllUllli i I iyililllllllllllil III! Illlllllllliniillllllil I liillililll 



Thomas Alva Edison. 

the g-okl-printer, and was soon famous as a successful inventor : but he was not 
so successful in manufacturing- these instruments and his other inventions, for 
which there was soon a larg-e demand. It is said, "if he had an order for any 
of his inventions, and, after having made a part or all of them, he invented an im- 
provement, he would always add it, even though at his own expense." 



36 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

After a time, he gave vip the great factory at Newark, New Jersey, and freed 
himself of its cares for tlie sake of invention. 

Mr, Edison's chief interest has always been in telegraphy ; it began when he 
was a lad selling i)apers on the Grand Trunk Railway. One of the great priv- 
ileges of his life was tlie gift of lessons in operating from a man whose little child 
he had saved from being run over by a train. But even before this he had a 
small home-made apparatus of a stove wire insulated by bottles and used as the 
line wire : the wire for his electro-magnets was wonnd with rags, while the boy- 
ish operator tried in vain to supply the electricity by rubbing the cat's back. He 
was a clever, enterprising little fellow even then, and although he had scarcely 
eight weeks of schooling altogether, he had a great thii'st for knowledge. He 
lead books on chemisti-y, science, and in fact took out almost all the important 
xolumes in the Detroit public library before he was fifteen years old. At this age 
he lost his mother, who had given great interest and care to his love of learning ; 
and about that time he became a newsboy on the trains of the Grand Trunk Rail- 
road that ran in and out of Detroit. This business had two attractions foi- him : 
the money he earned by it, and the chances it gave to see a great man}' books and 
papers. Meanwhile he kept up his interest in chemistry, and had a very nice time 
during his leisure hours experimenting in a laboratory he set up in an empty car. 
But this came to a sudden end by the explosion of some chemicals, setting fire to 
the car and putting the train in danger. 

A httle wliile after, he undertook something entirely different ; he got a small 
lot of type and a little sheet called the Grand Trunk Herald made its appearance 
on the "train. It was soon aftei- this that the grateful station-master offered to 
teach liim telegraphy. Night after night for sevei-al months, when his long day's 
work was over, he returned to his friend's station and took his lesson. He 
learned rapidly, and was soon able to get regular employment as an operator. 
Gradually he advanced from place to place and worked himself up until he had a 
position in Boston, which was considered one of the most important in the comitry. 
Besides his regular duties he nearly always managed to have a little shop for ex- 
periments iu chemistiy : som(>times this gave dissatisfaction to his employers, but 
in Boston his experhnents bi-ought him more money than his position, so he gave 
It up to try the duplex telegraph. This succeeded finally, although it failed fpr a 
time and made the inventor feel pretty down-hearted as he took his way from 
Rochester to New York ; but affairs soon brightened, for tlie fixing of the stock 
indicator opened the way for a series of the greatest inventions of this century. 
It is said that he owns in all over a hvmdred and fift>' patents, all but about a 
dozen of which are sort of safeguai-ds for the valuable ones. 

Among his chief woil^s are the perfecting of a cheap and serviceable electric 



Tcrrti — Jerome — Dennison — Hoivard. 37 

lig-ht, and the inventions of the quadruplex telegT"iph.\- and the elective pen. By 
means of the quadruplex telegraphy, four messages may be sent at the same time 
over the same vvii'e, in opposite directions, eacli being kept distinct from the otlier, 
and perfectly delivered. The electi-ic pen, for multiplying copies of letters or draw- 
ings, is made up of a tube-shaped pen in which a needle, driven by electi-icity, works 
in a motion like that of a sewing-machine needle, and perforates the lines drawn 
with it so that the perforated sheet may be aftei'ward inked and used in w. dupli- 
cating press, when the ink, passing throug-h the tiny holes, leaves a hnel\-dotted 
ti'acing like the oi'iginal on another sheet. 

But of all Mr. Edison's inventions, there are probably none so wondei-ful and 
of so g-reat fame as the carbon telephone and the phonograph. He has just 
married, and is now living- in Orang-e, New Jersey. 

Mr. Edison was born in a little village of Erie County, New York, Februaiy 
11, lcS4r. 

There are many other names that deserve an honorable place upon the list of 
American inventors. Eli Terry, of Plymouth, Connecticut, first began to make 
wooden clocks shortly after the Revolution, and started the clock-making indus- 
try, to \vhich Cliauiicey Jerome, his apprentice, gave a great impulse by in- 
venting metal machinery to take the place of the wooden works. 

Watch-ma kii]g by machinery also began in America in 1850. Two yeai's beforti 
this, two Boston men, Aaron L. Deiiiiisoii, a watch-repairer, and Edward 
Howard, a clock-makei", began to discuss together tlie plan of making watches 
by machinery. Mr. Dennison was leader in the pi'oject, antl after talking it over 
a great deal here, he tiaveled through Switzerland and carefidly noted every- 
thing about watch-making in the home of the ai-t, where skillful woi'knien made 
the best and most wonderful watches in the woi'ld by hand. 

After he came home, experiments were begun, and the two men started in 
business, soon setting' ui> the Boston Watch Company's factory at Roxl)iu'y. It 
was only a small beginning' at first, and a large part of the finest works liad to be 
imported. They were pretty expensive and not always perfect time-keepers. Still 
it was a great advance to have machinery that could make a watch at all. Soon 
other companies took up the industr^^ especially the American Company at Wal- 
tham, Massachusetts, and in a few years they began to be \'ery successful. No 
amount of care or labor was spared to improve them, and now our American fac- 
tories turn out a better ordinary time-keeper than the Swiss walcli. The prices, 
too, have been made so low that few Swiss watches are now iiiiportetl, and the 
American watches — especially from the rival Waltham and Elgin comi)anies — are 
crowding out the Swiss w^atches in all the markets of the world. 



38 



One Hundred Famous Americ<(ii.s. 



American in.i^emiitv luis led the world for several years in niacliiner}^ for mak- 
ing- cloth and other goods of woolen and cotton. A Avriter of authoiity says: 

'"There is not a machine in the w^hole list for sphming and weaving wool- 
ens, from the picker and the card to the nap-cuttei', which we have not im- 
pi'oved, and made to do bettei- and faster work than the machines used on other 
continents. Some of the machines are purely of American invention. The w^on- 
derful Bigelow automatic loom, by which figures of any kind can be woven into 
carpets, is the idea of Erastus B. Bigelow, of Massachusetts, who took out 
his patent in 184r), and achieved what Europe had given up as hopeless. Up 
to tliat time cai-pets were woven entirely by hand, but Mr. Bigelow's inven- 
tion gave the woi'ld a power-loom which would make figures that would match 
and would weave so rapidly as to increase the production from eight yards a 
day, which Avas the average of hand labor, to tAventy-seven yards a day for 
two-ply carpet. The same machine was also found to be al)le to weave the heavy 
Brussels caipet, the production of which is increased from foiu* to twentv yards a 
day. •' 

This made the carpet business a very lively one, and furnished goods at prices 
which almost everybody could pay, and the trade, which in 1850 was worth a little 
less than thi-ee milUous of dollars, was in 1876 worth thirtj^-six millions. 

James Lyall, of New York Cit^^, has improved the old loom for weaving dress 
goods in many ways, but particularly by inventing a new shuttle which has a pos- 
itive, or dii-ect and unvarying motion, so that it can be made to fly across almost 

any width of loom, and so weaves the desirable 
*' extra wide" goods which were luiknow^n much 
less than fiftj^ years ag'o. 

The great improvements in the art of piinting — 
most of which have been made in this centui'y — are 
the work of many minds on both sides of the globe ; 
but it is to Ricliarcl March Hoe, of New York, 
that the world owes the perfect c^iinder presses 
j which ai'e now used to print some of the greatest 
newspapers in Europe and in America^ 

Mr. Hoe's father, Rol)e]-t Hoe, was an English 
inventor, afid the lii-st ]ierson who set up a cylinder press in this coiaitry : and 
Richard March began to invent and improve machinery- when he was a school- 
boy. At twenty-two years of age he went to England to patent an improvement 
upon saw-making, and Avhile abroad he gave a great deal of thought and labor 
to printing-presses, especially the steam-presses invented some twenty years 




Franklix Press. 



Bichnrd March Hoe. 



39 



before by Frederick Konig-, a Gerinan, and then used by the London Times. 
Gradually, he kept improving- u|)on this, adding- inventions and making- altera- 




Webb Perfeotinu Pkess. Pkints and delivers, folded, 34,000 copies an hour of an 

eight-page paper. 

tions, until he perfected the great Hoe Cylinder Press, which prints seventy 
thousand four-page newspapers in an hour, making- an impression on both sides 



40 



One Hutnlred Famous Americans. 



of the sheet at the same time, and cutting- them apart and fokiing- them before 
they leave the press. 

There are also many others who liave benefited the woild hy their inventions 
and experiments. The gi-eat faculty of American ingenuity, which was first most 











Machine for PRixTixd Paper-hangings. 



remarkable in Benjamin Franklin, the statesman, has made scores of illustrious 
names in our liistorv. There is no branch of industry, science, or art. no kind of 
business, work' or play, that has not been allcied and improved by the great army 
of American inventors. 



EARLY STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 



NEVER in the world's history has a small body of people in a far-oil" and 
newly-settled country been watched with so much interest and attention by 
other nations as were the revolting- 
patriots of America. The battle of 
Bunker Hill sent a bright Hash of 
valor across the i^tlantic that re- 
vealed to the Old World the spirit 
and mettle of the NeA\ ', and drew 
men to study the histoiies and the 
characters of the people who were 
resisting- the power of Great Britain, 
who seemed not only to know their 
rights, but to be ready to establish 
the justice of their claim, and to dci- 
fend it to the end. Suddenly the 
eyes of all mankind wei'e turned 
upon the rough beginning of a country 
beyond the Atlantic; and from out 
its small and scattered cities, its 
unexploi'ed stretches of wilderness, 
and its uneducated settler families — 
fai' away from each other and often 
divided in feeling — thej' saw rise up 
a race of noble, pure-minded, reso- 
lute men, whose greatness soon com- 
manded the interest and the resi^ect 
of the most eminent people in Emope. 
All the world watched these patriots 
as they passed through one of the most trying times known in history, and. with 
one voice, at the end, united in naming them among the truly gi'eat whose fame is 
for all time. 




42 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Benjamin Franklin was then the most miportant American hi the eyes of 
all foi^eig-ners, as he had been tor almost fifty years the most able and respected 
of all men in his own land. His strongi^'-bnilt, well-formed figure, his courtly 
manners, and pleasant face, with its lig-ht skin and gra3' eyes, was known in Eng-- 
land long before the smoke of powder rose over Bunker Hill. He lived there for 
over a year when he was about twenty years old, working as a journe^^man 
printer, and twenty years before the war he was chosen by the Pennsylvania 
Assembly to make an official visit to London to plead before the Privy Council 
the cause of the people against the sons of William Penn, who were proprietary 
governors owning larg-e estates, upon which they claimed that they should not pay 
the Assembly tax. Franldin had a quiet, logical, and exceeding-ly fair way of 
speaking-, and was so successful in his arguments that the Council decided that 
the estates of the Penns should beai- an equal share of the public taxes. 

Se\en .years later he made another visit to the mother country. This time it 
was for several of the Colonial Assemblies, and on even more serious business, 
being- in regard to what the Americans felt were unjust taxes on the part of Great 
Britain. A very strong- feeling had g-rown up by this time between England and 
the Colonies, and the hateful Stamp Act was passed the next year ; but in the 
following- year, when the claims of the Americans were examined before the 
House of Commons, it was due to the talent, skill, and the g-reat amount of hifor- 
mation which Franklin had at command in presenting his countr^^'s cause, that 
the Act Avas repealed. But other laws, just as hard and as much disliked, were 
kept in foi-ce, and the dispute between the tAvo counti'ies still went on. Franklin 
did all in his power to have the mutters peacefullj^ settled, l)ut when he found that 
it was im]iossible for the Americans to gain their rig-hts by talk, he returned 
home, after a stay of over ten years, and joined heartily in the fight for freedom. 

The battle of Lexington had taken place while he was at sea, and the whole 
country was now filled with excitement. The day after he landed , on the fith of May, 
1775, he was made a delegate to the Continental Cong-ress, and was there put upon 
the famous committee of five, with Jefferson, John Adams, Rog-er Sherman, and 
Robei't R. Livingston, to prepare the Declaration of Independence, which, after it 
was adoptiHl and dul\- engrossed on parchment, he, Avith the fifty-fom' other 
honoi-ed patriots, risked life, land, and all against the power and WTath of Great 
Britain in signing- it. 

Franklin was a statesman, not a soldier, and his work during the Revolution- 
ary War Avas to draft the first plan of government, called the Articles of Con- 
federation ; to help collect militia to defend his State, Pennsylvania ; to take up 
all the diffeiYMit duties and cares of the first Postmaster-General; to A'isit AVasli- 
ington's c;imp and consult Avith the Commander-in-Chief upon AA-ays and means: 



Benjamin Franklin. 



4:'. 



to g-o to Canada to see if the people there woukl join with the Colonies ; and to 
labor devotedly for his country's cause on committees of the greatest importance, 
and in the conventions that controlled the public actions of all the whole people. 

When, before the close of the second year of the war, it became necessar3' for us 
to have a helping- friend in some g-reat foi-eign power, it was the wise and venera- 
ble Dr. Franklin who was entrusted with the mission to France. Although he 
was then in his seventieth year, he was still one of the shrewdest and best ag-ents 
that ever managed the affairs of any countrj^ . He at once became a g-reat favor- 
ite in Paris. People were charmed with 
his simple ways and quaint manners, for 
he pretended to be nothing more than a 
plain Colonist, although Oxford Univer- 
sity, in England, had made him a Doctor 
of Laws, and he was famous all over 
Europe for learning, statesmanship, dis- 
coveries in science, practical inventions, 
and wisdom about common things. In a 
short time he completely won over the 
divided favor of the French people to the 
American side, but for a long while the 
government would not ag-ree to do any- 
thing for us, because France did not want 
to bring- on a war with Great Bi'itain 
b^' uniting openlj^ with the Colonies, al- 
thoug-h she had given us secret aid from 
the first. But we needed more than that ; 
we wanted a firm and open ally, and so 
while Dr. Franklin was allowing himself 
to be the pet of French society, while he PuiNTma-PKESS used t?y Frankxin. 
was making- the acquaintance of the g-reatest literary and scientific people of the 
capital, and interesting- ever^- one by his own part in these things, he was still 
more earnestly trying to bring about a treaty and alliance with the g-overnment. 

After about a year of toilsome business that taxed all his resources as well as 
his good temper, the object was secured, the treaty was made, and a fleet of six- 
teen war-vessels under Count D'Estaing, and an armj' of four thousand men 
were sent to America in the summer of 1778. Franldin was now able to buy 
vessels, which were made into American cruisers. The next year he helped to fit 
out a fleet of vessels, which were sent out from France under command of John 
Paul Jonesj, the story of whose gallant life is told in the chapter on Commanders. 




44 One Hundred Fumous Americans. 

The agreements in tliis treaty were most favorable to the United States, and 
it has often been said that we owe onr independence to it. But it did not secure 
rest or even smootli saihng for our old and busy statesman. During- the re- 
mainder of the war, he stayed on at Paris, devoting- himself to all the difficult and 
perplexini;- foreign affairs that fill the pages of those years of our history. They 
were of all kinds, civil, military, and naval, and kept Franklin constantly at 
work ; " smoothing, aiding, contriving, and assisting by word and b\- pen. always 
wise, always to the point, he steered the bark of his couiitiy to the desired 
haven." 

When the struggle was over, with John Adams, John Jay, Thomas Jefferson, 
and Henry Laurens, he made the treaty of peace with England, and signed both 
the preliminary, or first treaty, and the final, or last one, in Paris. He afterAvard 
arranged for a treaty with Prussia, in which he put an article against privateer- 
ing — that is, arming private vessels and giving them a right during war to do 
what tliey can toward breaking up the commerce of the enemy. " This treaty," 
said Washington, "makes a new era in negotiations. It is the most liberal 
treat3^ which has ever been entered into by independent powers." 

After all these and many more labors, that it would fill a book to give an ac- 
count of, you may be sure he was welcomed home with the greatest lienors pos- 
sible. Everybody, from the highest to the lowest, paid him their respects. But 
he had scarcely been here a month before new calls of duty were made upon him. 
For three years he was President of Pennsylvania, under the old Constitution of 
the State, and when the chief men of the nation wei-e called to a general assembly 
to form the Constitution of the United States, the aged statesman was present, 
'• counseling and suggesting as ever, and pouring oil on the troubled Avaters of 
controversy." He made a motion that the meetings of this convention should be 
opened every day with prayer, saying : " I have lived a long time, and the longer 
I live the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the af- 
fairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it 
probable that an empire can rise without his aid ? " 

This was near the close of that long life, Avhich spread over three genei-ations of 
American history, beginning in the old Puritan time, covering the whole of two wars, 
from the battle of Quebec to the Yorktown surrender, and seeing the entrance 
of the new era of the United States, an independent and self-govei'uing nation. 

His last public act was to sign the memorial address presented to Congress by 
the old Abolition Society, of which he was President. Wlien lie had passed a^vay 
and the story of his life was fully told, it was then known Avhat a really great man 
he was. Beside his statesmanship, which was so alile in small things and great, 
that the success of th(^ Ri'volution was very largely due to him, he w;;s a gi-cal 



Beiijatn in Franklin. 



45 



philosopher and scholar, a public benefactor, and a practical inventoi- and work- 
man. He made a new and very important step in the progress of philosophy. 




and set forth new principles in politics ; " he showed his countrymen how to think 
and write ;" he published some of the first American newspapers, and the famous 
*' Poor Richard's Almanac." This was announced as being- edited by Richard 



46 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Saunders, of Philomath, and printed and pnbUshed by Benjamin Franklin, of 
Philadelphia. From the year 1732 it was issued annually for a quarter of a cen- 
tury . It had a place in almost every household in the land, not only on account 
of the inlormation it contained, but also for its shrewd and worldly-wise maxims, 
which were afterwai'd gathered into a- pamphlet called " The Way to Wealth," 
and, being' ti'anslated into man^y' lanyuag'es, long- ag'o became a part of the world's 
stock of wise proverbs. 

Soon after he returned to Philadelphia — after his short first stay in Eng-land — 
he l)eg-an to make himself felt for g-ood in the city, although he was then but a 
young- printer, just of age. He g-athered his friends together into a social and 
literary club, called the Junto. It was a small circle of scriveners, joiners, and 
shoemakei's, who, with Franklin for their leader, met to impi'ove themselves, help 
mankind, their country, their friends, and each other. Everything- about it Avas 
cai-ried on with the same simplicity and common-sense that always marked its 
founder in whatever he did. Althoug'h its influence was soon felt far ;md wide by 
branch clubs, it was never enlarg-ed, and even its existence was kept a secret. It 
lasted for forty years, and out of it g-rew the American Philosophical Society, 
while the small collection of books, owned in connnon by its members, was the 
beg-inning' of the g-re^at Philadelphia Librai-y — •" The mother of all the North 
American subscription libraries." 

Perhaps the hig-hest praise that was ever g-iven to this g-reat and g-ood man 
was spoken by Lord Chatham, in 1775, when he said that the i-L^presentative from 
America was " one whom all Europe holds in hig-h estimation for his knowledge 
and wisdom, and ranks with our Boyles and Newtons ; who is an honor not to 
the Eng-lish nation only, but to human nature." 

The nobility of his miud and character was due chiefly to his own efforts. His 
parents had a larg-er family than the^^ could easily support, and Benjamin was 
put to work in his father's soap factory in Boston when lu; was ten years old ; 
but he shows in tht; Autobiog-raphy, or the story of his life written by himself, how 
he educated and supported himself at the same time, and by living according- to 
sti-ict i-ules of work, stud\', temperance, and honor, g-radually raised himself to a 
high place among the g-i-eatest, most usefid men of his own or any other time. 

Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston, Massachusetts, on the 17tli of Janu- 
ary, 1700. He died in Philadelphia on the 17th of April, 1790. 

It has been said that our first debt of g'-ratitude for American liberty was due 
to three men — Georg-e Washington as a general, Benjamin Franklin as a states- 
man, and Kobert Morris as a financier. 

The first two men were great in many ways, and have a wide fame in more 



Robert Morris. 



47 



than one vocation, while Morris is celebrated only as a money manager. Bntinthe 
use of his one talent and in the giving- of his one vast gift he saved his adopted 
country from ruin and the labor of the other patriots from ending- in failure. He 
was an Englishman by birth, but having- been bi-ought to this country Ijy his father 
when he was a boy, he g-rew up as stanch a patriot as those of the oldest Colonial 
blood. Ver^' soon he began to show a wonderful talent for business. As a lad of 
fifteen he was put in a Philadelphia counting-house, and when he reached the age 
of twenty he became a partner in the hrm and commenced to amass a fortune. B,y 



/ / 




Robert Morris. 
the time the war-cloud with England began to gather, he was a very wealthy man, 
famous for his integrity and ability. No hrm in Pennsylvania — then one of the 
most important and wealthy of all the Colonies — did a larger business than that of 
Willing & Morris. But when the troubles thickened with England, he bold ly sided 
with the patriots, and by assenting- to what is known as the Non-impoi-tation Act 
of 1TG5, sacrificed a great deal of trade advantage for the sake of principle, for his 
house was then doing a large and profitable lousiness with the mother country. 

Ten years later he was a member of the Continental Congi-ess. and altliougn, 
like many others, he felt that the time had not yet come to adopt it, he signed the 
Declaration of Independence. For several years after, he served on the Commit- 
lee of Ways and Means, and hy his careful management and judicious advice 
upon money matters was of the greatest service to the cause. When our Uttle 



48 Ofic Hundred Famous Americans. 

Treasury ^rew low, or was empty, and Cong-ress was very c-lose to failure, he 
g-ave all he had himself, and borrowed large sums of monej^ on his own credit, 
or usetl the honorable name of his firm to obtain funds which would never have 
been risked to Congress, whose cause seemed vei-y likely' to fail an^'wa^'. But 
Robert Morris's name was as g-ood as the g"old, and when the destitute troops 
( weiv on the verg-e of an outl)reak among- themselves, and Washington was 
almost in despair, the signature of the honored mei'chant raised fifteen millions of 
dollars fioiu the French, and made it possible for the Commander to carry for- 
ward his last cami)aign anil force the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown. 

^lori-is did even more tlran give his own wealth and bori'ow from othei'S on his 
own credit, when that of the United States would not be accepted ; he under- 
took the difficult task of arranging- some system by which the funds needed to 
cari-y out our plans might be raised, and by which the nation might have credit 
and i-evenues in the place of the poverty and bankruptcy that then existed. 
Finally, in 1781, Congress decided that the only thing- to be done toward better- 
ing- the state of oui' money matters was to appoint some able man to look after 
them, and so they dt>cided that the Govei'ument should have a Superintendent of 
Finance, and Robert Morris was appointed to till the office. It then became his 
duty not only to look after the use of all the funds in the Treasurj^ which, with 
the vast needs of the wai' and the scarcity of money, was a great task, but he 
had also to settle ui)()ii some plan for raising the public revenues in a way that 
would l)e as easy as possibl- to the people, andAvould not bear harder on one than 
aiiotlici-. One of the tirst tbings he did was to found the Bank of ;N'oi'th America. 
Over si.Kty yeai-s before, John Colman had proposed, in New England, a plan for 
a joint-stock corporation to carry on a money-lending business, whose notes, 
properly secui-ed, should become a currency for genei-al use. The scheme met 
with no faxor then, but a few years later it was taken up by Massachusetts, and 
in a littk- while many other Colonies tried the experiment of lending money to be 
ap|)lied toward public expense, and for the use of which interest was p:iid every 
y.-ai-. The wise and far-seeing statesman. Benjamin Franklin, approved highly 
of the plan, and those who tried it found it a profitable business. But it was 
only a venture, and was tried by but a few of the Colonies before the Revolution 
l)rok<' out. Now Morris proposed to carry it out on a more serious and larger 
scale, anil witii the advice of his two able friends, Alexander Hamilton and 
Gouverneur Mori-is, it was laid before Congress, from wliich the Bank of North 
America, of the State of Pennsylvania, received its charter on the last day of the 
year 1781, 

So far successful. Morris began to establish the 1)ank at once. By putting 
forth great efforts and spai-ing no pains he induced important people in'the coun- 



Robert Moi-ris. 49 

try to subscribe to it and to put gold and silver money in its vaults. Tlionias 
Paine, whose famous "• Common-sense "' papers had done so much six and seven 
years before to rouse the people to patriotism and to call out volunteers for the 
rank and file of the army, was now Clerk in the Pennsylvania Assembly. He 
subscribed five hundred dollars to the bank himself, and used his talent for writ- 
ing and every other means in his power to help the institution along-. 

Before long- the bank's credit was established, and Morris was able to relieve 
the suffering" army. During the first six months of its existence it loaned to the 
Government four hiuidred thousand dollars, and to the State of Pennsylvania 
eighty thousand dollars. It proved a thorough success. The charter was re- 
newed several times ; from a State bank it was made a National one in 1864 ; and, 
although it was only intended as a security to those who would lend money to 
aid tile Government, it pi'oved profitable to its stockholders, for from 1792 to 
1875 it paid them over ten cents a j^ear for the use of every dollar they had in it. 
It is still in existence, one of the oldest institutions in the country. 

It is well known that Mr. Morris had complete conti'ol of tlie national funds 
during the three most trying years we ever had in money affairs, but the great- 
ness of liis work can scarcely be understood now, foi- there was then not so strong 
a bond between the States as at present. There was jealousy and disti'ust be- 
t\veen them, so that it was not eas^^ to get them to act together. Moreover, money 
was scarce with all, and many were very poor. 

Besides all the work and care of these money operations and looking after the 
way in which the funds were used, which would require an entire bureau nowadays, 
Mr. Morris carried another burden almost as heavy, in the management of the Navy 
Department, equipping fleets and supplying the needs of our warriors on the sea. 

When victory came, it relieved the generals and the soldiers, but it brouglit no 
rest to the statesmen and the financier. Morris made many eloquent and constant 
appeals to the States, calling upon them, in the name of duty and policy, to give 
each its share to pay the duties levied on imports. But little response came, and 
not until he was thoroughly disheartened and wanted to resign, did Congress pass 
resolutions for aid. The Government could not spare his services, and so he toiled 
on until the latter part of the year 1784. 

After the war. he was twice a member of the Pennsyhania Legislature, and 

'helped to frame the Federal Constitution. He served as a Senator afterward, 

and more than once was pressed by Wasliington to accept the office of Secretar\' 

of the Treasury in his Cabinet. But he refused this office, and named Alexander 

Hamilton as one better able to fill it than himself. 

After his term as Senator was over, he went out of public life with less than 
half the wealth he h;ul when he entered it. Being still in the pi'inie of life, he 



50 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

entered into business u^ain, and built up a large East India trade. In the same- 
year that he resig-ned the office of financier, he sent the Empress of China fioni 
New York to Canton, the first Aniei'ican vessel that ever entered that port. He 
also marked out a course to China, by which the dangerous winds that sweep over 
the Eastern seas at some seasons of the year might be avoided, and, to prove the 
wisdom of following this course, he sent out a vessel that made a successful trip 
ovei- it. After awhile he bought a great deal of land in the western part of New 
York, then the wild frontier. But the investment proved a failure, and Mr. Moi'- 
ris lost about all that he had. The great man who had saved the American 
armies from mutiny and famine, who had redeemed the credit of his State and his 
adoptetl country, had made his wealth the nation's, and staked his own spotless 
reputation foi- hei- sake, spent his last years in poverty and debt. Neither his 
count r\' nor his State came forward to relieve his distress, although for their needs 
he had given everything he had, excepting his honor — there never was a shadow 
cast on that, either in public or in private life — and they owed him princely fort- 
unes in debts of gratitude. 

Kol)ert ^Morris was born in Lancaster, England, June, 1734. He died in Phila- 
delphia, May S. lS()(i. 

Robert Morris's assistant in managing the money affairs of the country during" 
the Revolution was his illustrious friend, (jroiiveriieur Morris, of New York. 
He was one of the first lawyers and statesmen in the land, and had made patriotic 
speeches at the Continental Congress which placed liim among the most ehxiueut 
men of that noble and talented assembly. He had a fine face, and a straight, 
handsome figure, which looked so much like George Washington's, that while in 
Paris he stood for the figure of Houdon's statue of Washington. 

For many years there was scarcely a national meeting of any importance held,, 
to whicli (TouveriKMii- Morris was not sent by New York as longashehved in that 
State, and afterward l)y Pennsylvania. We are told that his speech in favor of 
independence, in the first Congress, was as remarkable for logical force as Patrick 
Henry's for fiery eloiiuence. But his counsel and Avisdom were even greater than 
his eloipience, and haxing a wonderful foresight, his advice in regard to laying 
plans for future events aiv now believed to have been of the greatest importance 
to tlie country. He saw ahead what jn-ogress we should make and how Ave should 
want to gi-ow, and it is to his foi'elhought that we owe a great many of the 
wise provisions in om- national plans wliich have been found so valuable as the 
country has grown. 

When only .'ightccn years old, he began to Avrite a series of articles in the news- 
papers, upon the givat science of political economy, which was then almost un- 



Gourenieur JSEovn's. 51 

heard of in America. Questions of trade, debt and credit, exchang-e and cui-rency 
were taken up and laid before the people with such originality, acute reasoning, 
and thorough knowledge, that mature and thoughtful men were amazed at the 
boy who could write them, but at the same time they were instructed, and these 
papers, and the financial essays written later, both "taught and influenced public 
sentiment, and prepared the waj^ for whatever libei'al and enlightened policy on 
this and kindred subjects was adopted." 

When, in 1787, a call was made for delegates from each State to form a con- 
vention to talk over and frame a Constitution for the new government, Gouver- 
neur Morris was chosen as one to represent the State of Pennsylvania. 

With all his mind and will, sacrificing- his own feeling-s and interests, and l)eing 
without the sympathy of his family and old friends, he joined in the work and 
the cause of American freedom, and histoi-y give.^ him a jilace among our most 
courag"eous, pui'e-minded patriots, while the people of his own times praise him 
for his self-respect and simplicity, and say that in force and intellect, as well as 
in fig-ure and features, he was one of the most commanding of men. 

He was the friend of Washing-ton, Schuyler, and Greene, of Robert Morris, 
Hamilton, and Clinton, of Paul Jones and of Jefferson. The army, the navy, and 
the affairs of state were upon his mind and heart, and whether at home or abroad 
the leaders in American progress had in him an able friend and adviser. 

In later years he did a great deal for our trade by securing easier terms in oui' 
commei'cial treaties, and for two j^^ears he represented the United States at the 
Court of France. Returning* home, he was United States Senator for three years, 
and after that, while living quietly upon his family estates in Morrisania. above New 
York City, his interest and aid Avent out to all the great movements of the day. 
He was one of the first to see the need of some means of connecting- the intei'ior 
part of the country with the Atlantic sea-board, and brought forward what was 
then thought to be the wild idea of the Eiie Canal. The plan, which was first pro- 
posed by Jesse Hawley, was said to be ridiculous and impossible; but Morris kept 
on talking- about it and showing liow it could be carried out, mitil finally, after 
his death, when De Witt Clinton, Peter Cooper, and othei's took it up, the g-reat 
feat was accomplished, and trade was opened between the center of the continent 
and the ports and cities of the Eastern States. It was Gouverneur Morris, too, 
who succeeded in having laid out the few broad avenues there are in New 
York, and urged that the city be surveyed as far as Harlem, which was then 
thought to be much farther into the country than the population of New York 
would ever extend. But in tliis, as in many other matters, less than one century 
has proved that he could see further into the future of the American nation than 
almost anv man of his time. 



5-.> One Hundred Famous Americcois. 

Gouverneur :\Ioi'ris was born January 31, ir5;2, in that part of New York City 
called Morrisania. where lie also died on the 6th of November, ISIG. 

When Robert .Moitis. the financier of the Revolution, made the suggestion 
that Alexjinder Hamilton be Secretary of the Treasury in President Washing- 
ton's Cabinet, he selected from a large company of able statesmen the greatest 
political genius that America has ever had. ''Next to George Washington," 
said Chief Justice Marshall, "there has been no one to whom our Republic owes 
more."' A full quarter of a centmy younger than Washington, and from ten to 
twenty years youngei' than almost all the other leading statesmen of his day, as a 
financier, a politician, a lawyer, and an orator, he had no equal. He was not 
an American born, and his public life lasted only thirty years, yet in that time he 
made so deep an impression upon our country and our government, that "his prin- 
ciples of finance, of foreign affairs, of political economy, and of the powers and 
duties of govei-nment under the Constitution may be fomid on every page of our 
history, and have sway to-day throughout the length and breadth of the land." 

He took part in drawing u}) our laws and Constitution, explained them to the 
people, designed many of our great institutions, and gave our rough and new- 
formed nation the piittern of a fine lawyer, a courageous, noble, upright states- 
man, and a thorough gentleman. 

This man, whose name stands out so grandly on the pages of our history, Avas 
i)orn in the West Indies, a British subject. His father was a Scotchman, and his 
mother was a beautiful, witty Fi-ench Huguenot woman. She died when he was 
l)ut a little boy, and, his father being poor, Alexander was brought up by his 
mother's relatives. When twelve years of age he was taken as clerk in a count- ■ 
ing-room, and set to a work that he could not bear. In writing to one of his boy 
friends about his place, he said he would willingly risk his life, though not his 
character, to get above it; there was no chance to rise at present, "but," he said, 
"I mean to prepare the way for futurity." So, in leisure from his office work 
— which he took pains to do well, whether he liked it or not — he read Plutarch and 
Pope, and many other authors. He also wrote a good deal, and one composition 
describing a se\'ere hurricane that crossed the W^est Indies was published, and 
attracted so much notice that his relatives decided that he was too talented a boy 
to be neglected l)y them, and that he deserved a better chance than he could have 
ill the office of a West Indian mei-chant. So it happened that, in 1773, he came 
by ship to Boston, and from there to New York, which was ever afterward his 
home. He knew no one when lie came, but the letters of a good old friend in the 
Indies secured for him a few good new ones here. 

His iiiaiii ohjcct was to get an echication, and he h)st no time in l)ecoming a 



Alexander Ha mi Jf on. 53 

pupil in the celebrated gramniar-school at Elizabetlitown, New Jersey, which was 
reckoned one of the best in the country. After a year's hard study, with odd mo- 
ments used in writing- hymns, eleg-ies, and verses of all sorts, he returned to New 
York and entered King-'s College, which is now Columbia Colleg-e. Although 
Hamilton was only sixteen then, he was very anxious to g-et ahead, and had a tutor's 
private lessons beside his regular college work, and soon pushed far lieyond his 
class. People said, ' ' That little West Indian will make his mark some day . ' ' And 




Alexander Hamilton. 
the day was not long in coming-. After he had been here about two ^xars, he went 
up to Boston for a visit, and found the city full of excitement about the way Great; 
Britain was treating the Colonies. For some time he did not know which country 
to side with, for such an energ-etic, restless, ambitious young: man as he must join 
one or the other. Finally, he resolved that it should be ag-ainst the Eng-lish. 

When a g-reat. open-air meeting- was announced, to urg-e New York to join the 
other Colonies in preparing- for a Congress, Hamilton went to hear the speakers. 
But he was disappointed ; they seemed to him to leave the best thing's unsaid, and 
suddenly he felt that he could say what they had left out, and he found himself 
moving- toward the platform, and on it, before the g-reat mass of people. The 



54 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

croAvd stared at this small, slight youth with the dark skin and the deep-set eyes, 
who was so bold as to come before them. For a minute he, too, felt himself out 
of iilaoe, and could not find the words he was going- to use, but again a minute 
and out they came, carrying- '* the eloquence of sound reason and clear logic, com- 
bined with great power and clearness of expression, and backed by a strong and 
passionate nature/' He poured out the thoughts he felt the other orators had 
left unspoken. Some peo])le in the cj-owd, stirred by his oratory, murmured, "It 
is a collegian ! '' '• It is a ct)llegian ! " whispered others, and his hearers forgot or 
forgave it, that he was a stranger and only a boy. 

This was the first stroke of Hamilton's " mark in the world." It was the be- 
ginning of thirty 3'ears of public life that only closed with his death. He was " in 
lor Congress," and was ready to do all in his power in the American cause. 

He answered the Tory pamphlets so ably that they were at first believed to 
have come from the most eminent men of the party ; and when he became known 
as their author, he was famous at once. The leaders gave him a sure position and 
caused the Tories — or Americans who, siding with Great Britain, were opposed to in- 
ile])entlence — to make him tempting offers to join their side, which offers he refused. 

Now his great work was vigorous essays against England, speeches at public 
meetings, and his leisure was given to the study of military affairs and practice 
in ;i volunteer corps. He took a promiuent part in everything connected with New 
York in the troubles that now gathered, showing zeal and enthusiasm, wisely 
guitlcd by self-restraint aud cool bravery. ''In the midst of revolutionary ex- 
citement he did not hesitate to come forward to check his own party, to oppose 
and censure their excesses, and to take the side of the unpopular minority in be- 
half of meiry, justice, order, free speech, and a free press." 

Early in 177<) he took command of an artillery company, upon which he spent 
his secuutl and last remittance fi-om his relatives, in equipments. This company 
was so well ti-ained that General Greene's attention was drawn to it, and he was so 
impressed l)y the young captain's talent that he introduced him to General Wash- 
iugton. He showed his worth soon after this at the sorry battle of Long Island, 
:ni(l aftei- the bntlles of White Phiins. Ti'enton, and Princeton, he Avas as famous 
lor gallantry in the field as for literary talent. In the early part of the second 
year of the wai', he became one of Washing-ton's aids, with the rank of lieutenant- 
<(»lonel. Tile Commander-in-Chief soon felt his woi-1h so much tliat he employed 
him as seci-etary, confiding to him his most secret thoughts, choosing him t)efore 
any otliers to carry out his most important business, and using his aid in planning 
campaigns and devising means to su])i)oi-t the army. 

The next year Aoung Hamillou took an active part in the battle of Monmouth, 
l»ut ali-eady lie was gelling (h'cpjy inteivsted in 1 he money affairs of the country, 



Alexander Hamilton. 55 

.and had written a number of public letters upon the subject. In 1781 he left the 
army to devote himself to another department of the country's work, although 
he Avent back to it ag-ain in about five months, and took command of a battalion 
in Washing-ton's army. On the 14th of October he stormed and took a redoubt 
himself, and was at the head of his command in the sieg-e of Yorktown. After 
tlie sui'render, he turned to the stud}^ of law, and, although he kept his rank in 
the army, he refused to receive any pa^'. 

It has been said that whatever he did in the war was well done, but his place 
in history is rather due to services as a statesman than as a soldier. He was not 
old enough to obtain large chances, and although he proved himself to have 
courage, dash, and coolness, and showed both nerve and foresight, the commanders 
felt that he was too young a man to have positions of great responsibility. But 
as a statesman nothing could keep him from the front. 

The fii'st year of peace, he was sent to the Continental Congress by New York, 
and was one of the leading and most useful men there from the first. " No one," 
said Washington, " has greater probity and virtue than Hamilton.!' But that 
Congress was made up of a different set of men from those who drew forth the 
praise of all Europe in 1TT4 and 1775. He brought all his power of mind and 
speech to bear upon the affairs before the Assembly, while " his winning elo- 
quence was the wonder and delight of friend and foe," as one of his hearers 
said : he was able to do very little in that evil time which made the prospects of 
our nation look so gloomy at the close of the war. In less than a year he re- 
signed and began to practise law in New York. Although his preparation had 
been small, he rose at once to first rank among the lawA'ers of the country. He 
was equal to Webster as a reasoner, far beyond him in creative power, and had 
both force and nre as an orator. He was always at work. There are no bare 
spots in his life, and even while he was busy with his own cases and clients, his 
interest went out and his labors were put forth toward all matters of national 
importance. 

When the feeling of the people in New York went too far against the Tories, it 
was Hamilton — stanch an American as he was — who stood up against their 
being pei'secuted. As a member of the Abolition Society, of which Benjamin 
Franklin was President, he made the resolution that each member of it should set 
his own slaves free. A few years later he was leader in the movement toward a 
firm and durable union of the States, and a member of the convention to form a 
Federal Constitution, for the country was much divided, and a loss of credit and 
of trade was being seriously felt because of the want of strong and united govern- 
ment. Congress had become so weak that it was driven by the insults and 
menaces of a small body of unruly soldiers from the regular meeting-place in 



56 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Philadelphia, to Princeton. The polished anil able statesman, Gouverneur Morris^^ 
said that Hamilton's chief speech before the convention was •• the most ahle and 
impressive he ever heard," and when the plan of g-overnment was adopted, he 
si^Mied the Constitution, and did all in his power to have it ratified by the people, 
although he had offered a different plan himself, which was not accepted. Not 
satisfied with speeches alone, he united with James Madison and John Jay in 
writing- a series of papers, or essays upon the Constitution, which were printed in 
the New York i/azette, and were afterward made up into several volumes, called 
" The Federahst. " As Hamilton wrote more than half of these wise and also 
brilliant essays, which all parties recognize as the best commentary ever written 
on tile Constitution of the United States, "The Federalist" is deemed one of 
his two greatest services rendered our country. And although the Constitution 
was strongly opposed by a powerful party, it was at last accepted mainly through 
the influence of these essays, and Hamilton's name has been passed around the 
world as one of the men who have best known upon what principles and laws a 
great government should be built up. 

But Hamilton's most important work of all was in the country's finances, — in 
the three great projects known as the assmnption of the State debts, the Funding- 
Act, and the National Bank. These changed the bankruptcy of the new nation 
into solvency and honor, and to him is due the credit of having solved the prob- 
lem, of fii-st importance at the time, and that which underlay eveiy other matter 
to be met l\v the new government. 

The experiment of Robert Morris's Bank of North America proved the value 
of an institution " which should make loans to the Government as well as to pri- 
vate indivieluals ; which should take and place Government bonds as our ' syndi- 
cate^s ' do now ; and which should furnish the people with a secure paper currency 
to supplement the limited amount of coin in circulation. But Hamilton held that 
the Bank of North America had then become a State institution and that a 
National Bank should be organized. England had such a one, and France also.. 
With a foresight which the experience of the country with greenbacks at a later- 
day proved correct, he objected to the issue of paper money directly by the Gov- 
ernment, saying that it is of a nature so lia])le to abuse, and it may even be affirmed, 
so certain of l)eing ai)used, that the wisdom of the Government will be shown in 
ncvei- trusting itself in the use of so seducing and dangerous an expedient." All 
tins he laid before Congress, i-ecommending a Bank of the United States, and his. 
plan was adopted and the bank incorporated in 171)1. The North favoied it and 
tlie South opposed it from the ver^^ first, but the plan was carried out with suc- 
cess, although thei-e was s\ich a strong feeling against it, that the charter was not 
renewed when it exi)ired in ISII , l)ut after the money panic and the war troubles ot 



John Adams. 57 

1812, another was given, and the second Bank of the United States was chartered 
in 181G. This expired in twenty 3'ears and was never again renewed. 

Hamilton's plans for the money matters of the country had not been long in 
use before public credit was restored and life and prosperity came back to trade 
and industry. He was warmly in favoi* of a protective tariff — that is, a ttix on 
foreign goods brought into this country for sale — so as to encourage the people to 
take up trades and manufactures, and to supply the market with goods made in 
this country, rather than to import them from other lands. 

He is often spoken of as the great Federalist, for he was for years the leader 
of the political party known as the Federalists, whose chief aim, when it was 
formed, was to unite the States into one government. Washington, Franklin, 
Adams, and a great many other of the ablest men of the times were the founders of 
the party, and it is due to them that we have one united Government binding all the 
States together, instead of a country made up of many independent, (^r almost in- 
dependent, States, as was the desire of the Anti-Federalist party, of which Samuel 
Adams and Patrick Henry were the great leaders. 

It could not be possible that a man of so many affairs, so attractive in looks 
and manners, and of such power, should be without faults or without enemies. 
But while Hamiltou was often sharp, severe, and confident of himself, he had a 
very generous natui'e, and often set aside all personal feeling to support the meas- 
ures of other men, when he thought them right. He was also courageous enough 
to bring his influence to bear squarely against those he thought unworthy. Twice 
this was the case with Aaron Burr, a brilliant and able man, but, in the opinion of 
Hamilton, one not to be trusted. After securing Jefferson's election as President 
against Burr, and defeating him also in the contest for Governor of New Yoi'k, 
Burr insolently called for an explanation from Hamilton, and finally challenged 
him to fight a duel. Hamilton felt in honor bound to accept his enemy's challenge, 
but purposely shot in the air, Avhile Burr's bullet made a mortal wound, and the 
brightest, ablest, and purest-minded statesman in America was killed. 

Alexander Hamilton was born in the West Indian island of Nevis. January 11, 
1757. He died in New Ycrk City July 12, 1804. 

The first pftblic act of John Atlains was in the 3'ear 1765. The citizens of 
Braintree, Massachusetts, had called a meeting to talk over the new law recfuir- 
ing stamps to be jiut on all paper used in business, and on all newspapers that 
were bought. The stamps often cost a great deal, too — the price being set accord- 
ing to the business they were used in. There was a very strong feeling- against 
the tax in all tlie Colonies, and Adams offered resolutions or instructions resisting 
it, to be sent l\y. the town to the Legislature. They wei'e accepted by Bramti-ee 
and -adopted by forty other towns in the Colony. 



58 One Hnndred Famons Americans. 

From this time forth John Adams was a public man. He moved to Boston, 
where his talents were alreadj' known, and soon became the chief law3'er for the 
patriots. Thus, throug-h his profession, he grew to be one of the foremost leaders 
in the cause of American liberty. After the Stamp Act was repealed he wrote 
pati-iotic articles in the Boston Gazette, .some of which were copied in a London 
journal and made a good deal of a stir. He was elected to the Legislature, and 
in a few ^■ears more, Avhen the Boston Tea-party had roused the people into action 
against the mother country, John Adams was one of the five Massachusetts mem- 
bers in the first Congress. He was as ardent here as he had been in Boston, 
speaking earnestly for independence, and was chosen to w^ork with Jefferson in 
preparing the Declaration of Inde})endence, although it is now believed that the 
great member from Virginia drew up this noble paper entirely by himself. 

But on the 28th of June it was the tall, stout, well-knit figure of Adams that, 
with the precious roll in hand, rose before Congress, in his grave and impressive 
manner, and it was the large head and expansive brow of the Massachusetts 
member upon which the assembly looked, while the e^^es that so often beamed 
with fun now shone with earnestness and patriotism, as the voice so often heard 
pouring out sti'ong and able arguments for I'ights and liberty broke forth into 
the stiri'ing words, '-When i.u the course of Imman events it becomes necessary 
for one people to dissolve," etc. 

]\Iany members of the Congress were opposed to this paper, and there were 
stioiig debates on botli sides; but, says Jefferson, "Adams was the ablest advo- 
cate and champion of independence on the floor of the house. He was the Colos- 
sus of that Congress. He came out witli a power which moved his hearers from 
their seats." 

Li the storm of war which followed this thunder-clap, Adams did not buckle 
on the sword and turn soldier as well as statesman, but he still kept hard at 
woi-k, for war recpiires as able men out of the fight as in it. He was chair- 
man of tw(Mity-five connnittees in Congress; he almost created and then looked 
after all the War Department we had, and also took charge of many impor- 
tiint matters between this country and Europe, and visited France, England, 
and Holland on public business. After the war he went to Europe, and, with 
FiaiiUlin. Jay, Jeft"erson, and Laurens, settled the treaty of peace with England. 
A few years later he Avas the first regular Ambassador or Minister from the 
Un;t<'d States to England. He soon came back from this trip and was made Vice- 
Pi-esidiMit. He was veiy earnest in supporting Washington, and in the Senate 
gave about twenty casting votes— probably more, it is said, than all the Vice-Pres- 
idents since. Neai-ly all of these were to support Washington's policy or on some 
iniMortant new law. 



John Adams. 



59 



After Washing-ton had been President for eig-ht years he refused to fill the 
ofiice for another term, and the first part^^ contest for electing- a President was 
held. There were five important men in the field, hut the larg-est number of votes 
were cast for Adams, and the next larg-est foi- Jefferson. So, as that was the 
way in which the President and Vice-President were elected at first, these two 
men, who had once been warm friends, but were now enemies through some differ- 
ences of views, stood tog-ether ouce more as leaders of the people. But in the old 





John Adams. 



Declaration days they Avere both on the same side: now the President was at the 
head of the old Federal party, while the Vice-President was leader of the new 
Republican party, which afterward changed its name and became better known as 
the Democratic party. 

Mr. Adams was full of large and noble ([ualities : he was more affectionate and 
warm-hearted than he often showed by his manner : he loved his fellow-men, and 
delighted in society and conversation, but he had a violent temper, although it 
soon cooled. He was very energetic and honest himself, and he could not endure 
cant or hypocrisy. But there was one other fault which probably harmed his 
political influence more than any other— that is. the confidence in himself which 



60 One Hundred Fammts Americans. 

made liiiu iinpatient and jealous of any opposition to liis own settled views. 
This he could not bear, and often resented with his quick temper and sharp 
words. 

As Pi-esident. he pretty closely followed Washin£;-ton"s example, keeping- the old 
Cabinet. He would not join with France in the war with England, partly brought 
on l)y France's ])a rl in the American Revolution. The nation was not then fit to g'et 
into another war; l)ut the French Directory were displeased, and violated the 
rig-hts of the United States at sea, and sent liome her envoys. Then, without con- 
sulting- his Cabinet, for he knew they would oppose it, President Adams took the 
responsibility of sending- another Ambassador to France, who was received. This 
tlirew the Cabinet into confusion, and roused bad feeling- in both parties; but it 
has passed into history as the most courag-eous act of his life, and one of the bold- 
est sti-okes of American statesmanship, for it saved the country from a wai- at a 
time when the nation could not have endured it. 

The President and the Fe(k>ralists in Congress also lost favor with the people 
by passing- what ai'e called the Alien and Sedition Laws, the first of which al- 
lowed the President to arrest any alien, or foreig-ner, in the United States who 
mig-ht seem to be dang-ei'ous ; while undei- the Sedition Law an3' one who should 
speak evil of the Government could be punished. 

Meanwhile, the new party g-rew strong-er every year, and at the close of 
Adams's term of office, Jefferson Avas elected in his place. 

Mr. Adams felt very badly, and did not even wait to see the new President take 
the chair. He suddenly fell from a high place to almost nothing- in the eyes of 
the people, and went quietly «)iit of public life to the Massachusetts town where 
he -was born, the name of which had been chang-ed meanwhile from Braintree to 
Quincy. His own pai-ty, too, turned ag-ainst him, and he seemed to receive noth- 
ing but spite from eithei\ Settled in comfort and plenty upon his New Eng-land 
estates, he spent a g-reat deal of time in writing-, and these articles, which were 
published in the neAvspapers, g-i^adually showed the people how great a mistake 
tlun' had made in their- treatment of the man who had tried to serve them faith- 
fully for nearly forty years. The public g-rew to love and venerate him and to 
i'e,gret that they had allowed i>arty feeling- to blind them to the virtues of their 
g-reat statesman. He was spoken of as '"noble old John Adams," and finally he 
had the pleasure of seeing his son. John Qxhncy Adams, made President. But the 
most beautiful thing that came about after these sad latter days was that he and 
Jefferson g-rew to be friends again, and wrote letters to each other as long- as they 
lived. Tlie end, too, came for each on the same day. The hand that penned the 
Declaration of LidejK'ndence— the g-reatest paper in American history— and the 
voice that, after callin.^v for it amongr the loudest,' presented it and plead for it, 



John Hancock. 61 

-were both stilled by death on the fiftieth anniversary of the day in which Congress 
adopted it. 

John Adams was born in Braintree — now Quincy — Massachusetts, on the 19th 
of October, 1735, and died at the same place July 4, 18:36. 

In the times before the Revolution, John Adams's name was oftener linked 
with those of John Hancock, James (_)tis, and Samuel Adams, than with any 
others in that larg'e and noble company of New England patriots. Of these, 
Samuel Adams was the leading- man. 

John Hancock was a member of the Massachusetts Legislature, boldly 
standing- up for liberty, about the time of the Stamp Act. He was one of the 
richest men in New England, led the best society in the Colony, and did a larger 
merchant business than almost any one else. About the first of the Boston out- 
breaks ag-ainst the British was caused by the King-'s officers seizing- his sloop 
Liberty and charging- her with hiding- forbidden goods. The people turned out 
in indignation ;ind treated his majesty's officers so roughly that they had to race 
to the fort in the harbor for safety, and leave their burning boat to the Americans. 
In 1773, Hancock was one who helped along the Tea Riot, and soon after made the 
bold and eloquent oration upon the victims of the " Boston Massacre " of 1770, at 
which the royal g'overnment took such great offense, that the effort was made to 
seize Hancock and Samuel Adams, which caused the fight at Concoi'd. 

There were few men at that time whose courage and patriotism were as great 
as Hancock's. He was leader of the Republican party in New England, had been 
a member of the General Assembly, was made President of the ProAincial Con- 
gress of Massachusetts, and in 1774 was chosen to the high office of President of 
the Continental Congress at Philadelphia. When the Declaration of Independ- 
ence was made in July it contained only the signatui'es of Secretary Charles 
Thompson and President Hancock, who said, when he had finished writing his 
name in large, bold letters, "The British ministrj^ can read that name without 
their spectacles. Let them double their rewai'd." By this he meant the large 
reward that had been off ei-ed the year before for the arrest of himself and Samuel 
Adams, Avho were considered arch-rebels agamst King George, and were the only 
two men excepted in the pardon offered b^^ General Gage after the fight in 

iOld King Street, now known as the " Boston Massacre." 

f 

\ Hancock had to leave Congress on account of his health, but he was soon 

-called upon to help make his State's Constitution, and to become its first Governor. 

Excepting for a short time, when he declhied the office, he was at the head of the 

Massachusetts commonwealth during the rest of his life. 

John Hancock was born at Braintree — now Quincy — Massachusetts, January 

12, 1737. He died in Boston October S, 17!)3. 



02 One Hundred Famous Amerieans. 

James Otis ^vas, it is believed, the greatest of early New England orators, 
and one of its ablest men. He was a leading lawyer in Boston from the time he 
fii-sl settled there in i;4S; but it was thirteen years after that when he broke 
forth with his finest burst of eloquence against the Writs of Assistance, before the 
General Courts of Massachusetts. Tliese Writs of Assistance were general 
search-warrants, which allowed the officers of the king to break open any 
citizen's store or dwelling to search for contraband merchandise; and, as they 
opened the way to many abuses, the people were very much roused ag-ainst them. 
When Otis i-ose to defend the rights of the people against this unjust measiu-e, 

he was, says John Adams, "a flame of fire He hurried away 

all before him. American independence was then and thei'e born." The ora- 
tor soon became the foremost leader of the popular party in Massachusetts, 
and held a liigh place in the Legislature for his ability and his eloquence. It 
was upon his motion that a congress of representatives of the various Colonies 
should meet, that the celebrated *' Stamp Act Congress " was held in New York 
in 17(i5. 

For several years Mr. Otis held the office of Judge Advocate under the Crown, 
but as he saw the government making one effort after another to enslave the 
Colonies, he made up his mind that he woidd not even practice his p7x)fession 
under royal right, aifd gave up his paying office two years after the gi'eat 
meeting in New York. He was now, both as a speaker and a writer of political 
pamphlets, foremost among the patriots of the North. 

When the news reached Boston that a body of armed Biitishers were coming- 
lo keep the city in order, Otis Avas looked to as the counsellor of the people. He 
was chosen moderator of the town meeting that first gathered at Faneuil 
Hall. I)ut being found too large for that room, adjourned to the Old South Church ; 
and ill the pulpit of that old house Otis poured forth his preaching's upon the 
saci-ed rights of libei'ly — moderation fii'st, but, if resistance was necessary, resist- 
ance to death. 

But "all through the great struggle to Avhich his eloquence had excited his 
countrymen, James ( )tis was like a blasted pine upon the mountains."" A political 
enemy by a bloAv on the head had so wreck<>d his reason that after the autumn of 
ITdK he was never wholly in his right mind for any length of time, althoug-h he 
i-eturn<'d to the L<'gislature in 1771, and there were times when he could even 
practice his profession, but his usefulness was gone. A man named Robinson 
was sent<:Miced to \r.\\ ten thousand dollars for this assault, but Mr. Otis forgave 
him the deed and had the fine remitted. 

James Otis was born at Bai'ustable, Massachusetts, February 5, 1725. He 
was killed by lightning in Andover, Massachusetts, May 23, 1783. 



^ 




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^^^A 













c:^' 






Facsimile of the Signatures to the Declaration of Independence. 



(j4 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

It lias been said lliat the title of the Father of Amei-ica l^elonj^s more truly to 
Samuel Adams than to any other man, for it was he who awoke the Colonies 
to t he desire for independence which Washington led forth the armies to achieve. 
He was not a great orator— Hancock, Otis, and many whose names are now 
forgotten, were "more eloquent than Adams— but he was a g-reat, moving-, in- 
dependent spirit, who knew how and Avhen to act, and who g-ave his life wholly to 
the service of his country from the time he was about thirty years old. He was a 
Harvard graduate, when it meant a great deal to have been to any college ; he 
had learned all classes of people in the office of tax-gatherer; he had been a plain 
member and a clerk of the Massachusetts Assembly, and when there came to be 
a real i>artv opposed to the Bi'itish yoke, Samuel Adams was a bold and leading- 
meinl)er of it. 

Ill May, 1TG4, ten years before the Revolution broke out, it was he who first 
spoke forth, for Boston and all America, a jjrotest against Lord Grenville's plan 
for taxing the Colonies. He was one of the most active members of the Colonial 
Legislature, and John Adams describes him, in his diary, as " zealous, ardent, and 
keen in the cause, ahvays for softness, delicacy, and prudence when they will do, 
but stanch and stiff and strict and rigid and inflexible in the cause." 

The next year he originated the idea of the Colonial Congress, and afterward 
advocated the Continental Congress. It was his lioldness as spokesman of the 
conmiittee that secured the removal of the troops after the " Boston Massacre ;" and 
although at first, in the Philadel]>hia Congress, he counseled settling our troubles 
peaceably if we could, no one did more than he to bring about the separation 
from England. " Step by step, inch by inch, he fought the enemies of liberty dur- 
ing the dark hours before the Revolution," excited the people to throwing the tea 
in Boston Harbor and other acts resisting the t\'ranny of Great Britain; and 
counseled courage and perseverance in the hearts of those who feared the results. 
When some of the members of the Continental Congress doubted the success of 
the effort, Adams exclaimed : "I sliovdd advise persisting in our struggle for 
libei-ty, though it were revealed from Heaven that ninety-nine were to perish and 
only one of a thousand were to survive and retain his liberty ! One such freeman 
must possess more virtue and enjoy more happiness than a thousand slaves, and 
his children may have what he has so nobly preserved." 

He signed the Declaration and was one of the most useful members of the Con- 
tinental Congress from the beginning to the close of the Revolution. Much of the 
success of the patriots is due to the industry and judgment of this hard-working 
menibci-, who is now sometimes called the helmsman of the Revolution. 

After tlu' surrender at Yorktown, he left Congress, but on gomg back to Massa- 
chusetts, was not allowed to rest from public life. He was called to help in re- 



Patrick Henry. 65 

organizing- the Commonwealth, and, after the death of Hancock, was elected to the 
office of Governor yeai- after year, until he was seventy-five years old and no 
long'er able to carr3^ its cares. 

When Ml'. Adams was an old man, his son died and left him enough to live on. 
Before that he was always poor, and in middle life, Avhen his children were little, 
his first wife supported the family. 

Samuel Adams was born in Boston, September 27, 1722, and died in the same 
city October 2, 1803. 

The rich and most lo3^al commonwealth of Virginia was not so ready to resist 
the oppression of Great Britain as the leading Colonies of the North. The Legis- 
lature — or House of Burgesses — had almost reached the close of its session in 17G5 
without taking any decided measure upon the Stamp Act, when, one day, a tall 
and slender young man, unknown to many in that splendid assembly, arose to 
speak. It was Patrick Henry, a new member, and a lawyer from Louisa 
County. 

The rich planters were amazed and indignant, that this raw laAv.yer, unprac- 
ticed in statesmanship, should l)e so bold as to address the house upon so impor- 
tant a sul)ject. But Henrj^ had something to say, and soon held the attention of 
every member. He offered a brief set of resolutions, setting forth that the Bur- 
gesses and the Governor had the exclusive right and power to lay taxes and im- 
ports on the people of this Colony, and that not only the Stamp Act, but all acts 
of Parliament affecting the rights of the Colonies, were not according to the Con- 
stitution and therefore void. This was entirely too bold for a large number of the 
members and raised a great storm, but Henry would not yield. The old walls 
rung with the powerful enthusiasm and mighty force of his words, and even the 
most patriotic were surprised when he blazed forth : " Caesar had his Brutus, 
Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third '" " Treason ! Trea- 
son ! " broke in the presiding officer and the members, after which the orator 
finished in a calmer tone, "may profit by their example. If this be treason, 
make the most of it." 

The resolutions were adopted, and from that time forth Patrick Henry has 
stood among the first and greatest of American orators. He was a zealous patriot, 
and became a powder in the Colonies. He took a leading part among Virginians 
in all the important affairs that followed this stand against the King, keeping up 
his profession meanwhile with what would have been wonderful ability for a man 
far better educated than he ; for Patrick Henry was not a scholar and a gentleman 
born and bred, as were many of his great companions. He was about thirty years 
old at this time, and, until two years before, had made a failure at ever^^thing he 



66 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

ever tried to do, excepting- at idliii.^- away his time, hunting- and fishing, scraping- 
a violin, playing on a flute, following the hounds, and telling stories. When he 
was about twenty-five ^^ears okl, he made an effort toward becoming- a lawyer, 
and althoug-h he was admitted to the bar, he had so little to do in his profession 
tliat he stayed at home mostly and helped about the tavern at Hanover Court- 
House, kept by his father-in-law, who also supported Henry's wife and family. 
But one day he was called to court to take a part in a case called the " Parson's 
Cause,*" which some more important lawyer had refused. His opponent was one 
of the prominent men of those times, and the plaintiffs smiled at their already as- 
sured success when this awkward, backward, ill-mannered man rose to speak for 
the other side. But suddenly his timidity and bashfulness passed away ; he 
seemed to change completely before their eyes; his form swelled out; and his 
clear, forcible words astonished every hearer. The plaintiff's left their seats under 
the burning- storm of his words, and the jury returned to them a verdict of one 
penny damages. The people grew so enthusiastic that they lifted tlie young- man 
on their shoulders and carried him out of the Court-House in triumph. He was 
from that day an eminent man in his profession ; plenty of business and mone.>- 
beg-an to come to him now, and in a couple of years he was elected to the Virginia 
House of Bui-gesses, Vhere, in his first session, he made the great speech which 
S' set the ball of the Revolution rolling-." 

Yet, all this was but a foreshadowing- of what he w^as to do, Now that he had 
once set himself to work in real earnest, the wonderful powers of his mind beg-an 
to show themselves ; friends and strang-ers were surprised with his wisdom and 
power of speech. At that time our country was sorely in need of men fearless 
and eloquent, with hearts full of the love of justice and liberty— men who had 
seen and studied people, who knew the records of history, and the laws that had 
made nations great or caused them to fall. It was just such a man that this roll- 
ing stone, this unsuccessful student, farmer, and merchant had been unknowing-ly 
preparing himself to be. He was as much surprised as 'A\^\ one at what liad been 
hidden witliin him so long. But noAv that he knew, he labored with all his sti-ength 
to make the most of himself. The bad manners, slovenly dress, and the idle, 
careless habits that marred his youth were corrected. Always honorable, he noAv 
gained the reputation of being also prompt and faithful in all matters of business. 
H<' was a man who never drank liquor or used bad language. His companions 
lo\ed and i-espected him. He was kind and hospitable to friends and straiig-(n-s. 
generous to his neighbors, and although it is said that h(^ w^as jealous of his rivals, 
there is no actual record of it; but there is record of his having- spoken heartil.y 
in praise of them more than once. 

'J^he great man's face sometimes looked stern and severe, with its de(^p lines 



Patrick Henry. 67 

and the grave, thoug-htful expression upon the hig-h forehead and al)out the res- 
okite mouth and chin. His complexion was dark and his cheeks had no color in 
them. His nose was long and tinely shaped, and the full eyebrows were very 
often drawn together, hut when he smiled a hrig-ht sunshine seemed to spread 
over his countenance, lighting- up the deep-set blue-g-ray e^^es that seemed quite 
dark from the long-, heavy lashes, and completely changing- his mouth. Those 




Patrick Henry. 



who knew him well could almost tell whether he was pleased or displeased , and 
just how much, by the expression of his lips. 

In 1773 he worked with Thomas Jefferson, Dabney Carr, and the two Lees 
upon the Committee of Correspondence, whose duty it was to spread intelligence 
among- the Colonies ; he met with the different Virginia Assemblies that were so 
often broken up by the Royal Governor and reorganized by the people : and was 
one of the delegates to the Congress at Philadelphia, which sent a petition to the 
King- and an address to the people of the mother country. 

But it was after his return to Virginia when the convention of March, 1775. 



(ii^ One Hundred Famous Americans. 

was hold in Riohnioiul tluit liis iireatest blaze of oratory came out. All now 
looked 111)011 him as the lt>adiiii;- spirit of the Assembly', but when he presented 
resolutions to organize militar\' forces and take an open stand against Great 
Britain l)y puttiiiii- the Colony in a state of defense, there was a strong- opposition 
raised. AViUiam Wirt lells us that Henry answered these falterers in the stirring- 
words : ••Tlieic is no retreat but in submission and slavery. Our chains are 
already forged. Their clanking- may be heard in the plains of Boston. The next 
g-ale that sweeps fi-om the Noi-th will bring- the clash of resounding- arms. I know 
not what course others nia.\ lalse, but as for me, g-ive me liberty or g-ive me 
death! "* 

Without a vote against it, the resolution was adopted ; and when, in less than a 
nu>nth, the news from the North told of the fights at Lcxing-ton and Concord, 
Virginia was ready to join in with the New Eng-land Colonies for freedom, liberty 
and I'ig-ht. Henry set about g-athering- military forces at once, and did some g-ood 
woi'k ni command of them for a time, but resigned before very long- and devoted 
his time and strength to the work in the Leg-islature, where he stayed all through 
the A\ar. After peace was restored, as Governor and member of conventions, he 
sjient an active and useful life, declining- many of the higher offices offered hmi by 
both Pi-esidents Washington and Adams. John Randolph, of Roanoke, said 
that Patrick Henry was Shakespeare and Garrick combined and brought into the 
real business of life. Never was there such a genius to put his thought into 
words as Shakespeare, and no one at that time could utter those words as 
David Garrick had done. 

Patrick Henry was born at Studley, Virginia, May 29, 1736. He died in the 
same State, at his country-seat, Red Hill, in Charlotte County, June 6, 1799. 

Very few men luue left a deeper impression upon ovir nation and government 
than Tlioinas Jetterson. From the time when, as a brilliant young lawyer 
twenty-six years old, he was first elected to the Virginia House of Burgesses, till, 
at the age of sixtA'-six, he retired from the President's chair after two successful 
adnnnisti-ations, he was one of the foremost men in American politics. 

When only seven years old, and attending a poor country school in Albemarle 
County, Viigiiua, he showed such signs of becoming- a scholar that a tutor Avas 
soon after engaged to give him private lessons in French and the ancient lan- 
guages. He entered an advanced class in William and Mary College when he was 
seventeen, and here he sti^adily fulfilled the promise he had given, and studied 
from twelve to fifteen hours a day, making the best of all that the young college 
could give the youth of Virginia in those old Colonial times. In two years he 
graduated and then began to study law as earnestlv as he had devoted himself to 



Thomas Jefferson. 



69 



lang-uag-es and mathematics, and when he was twenty-four he was admitted to 
the bar and immediately won a place among the foremost lawyers of his time. 

He seemed to bound into success 'at once, and to be quickly rewarded for his 
hard work and diligent study in preparation. Before long-, too, he was taking- 




Thomas Jefferson. 

active part in the Colony's politics. The tall, bony, well-developed figure of Jef- 
ferson soon became one of the common sights at the public assemblies. Being- 
considerably over six feet tall, his square-looking- features, ruddy skin, sandy or 
reddish hair could not fail to attract attention, and his quick, positive way, and 
disregard for formally polite usages, made him as marked in manners as he was 
m looks. He was a thorough i-epublican, and could not even bear to be addressed 



70 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

by so small a title as " Mr." He wanted society to acknowledg-e all men equal, 
and in i-eiiard to slavery, which was then common in the North as well as in the 
South, he said openly: "'I tremble for my" country when I remember that God 
is just, for this is politically and morally wrong." He made a vain effort in the 
House of Bur.iivsses to give masters the right to free their slaves whenever they 
thouglit i)ro|)('r. 

Although he never made a foi'mal speech in his life, Jefferson was ranked as 
the ablest i)t)litical leailer of his time, being especially quick and prompt to act. 
A large part of his public Avoi-k was done with his pen. In 177:5 he united wdth 
Patrick Henry and other patriots on the famous Committee of (Jori-espondence, 
and the next year, at the convention in Philadelphia, presented a paper called "A 
Summary View of the Rights of British America." This was a strong argument 
for the right to resist unjust taxes, and many parts of it are much like some por- 
tions of the Declaration. It was so able that Edmund Burke caused it to be 
printed in England, with a few changes. The. convention would not adopt its rad- 
ical measures, hoping still to make some peaceful half-way settlement with the 
mother country. But it was afterward adopted by the patriots of Virginia, where 
Avith such men as Patrick Henry, Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, and 
George Washington, aroused, the cause moved rapidh- on. Military forces were 
mustered, and Jeffei-son placed commander-in-chief by Washington's appoint- 
ment : and in the conventions and congresses that followed each other in those 
troubled and important years, Thomas Jefferson was one of the ablest, most active, 
and impoi'tant of all the noble company drawn from every Colony. He made 
speeches, answered arguments, advised others, served on committees, and worked 
\\ith untiring zeal upon the great and serious affairs of the da,y, crowning all 
by the noble Declaration of Independtnice, which is now ranked as one of the 
vei-y ablest documents ever written, and stands as the most important paper 
in all modei"n political history. At the request of the other members of the com- 
mittee, Jeffei'son, who was chairman and the youngast man among the five, pre- 
pared the Declaration entirely himself; and John Adams, who was a better 
speakei-. read it to the assembly. 

Jefferson left Congress to be in the Virginia Legislature, where he labored, 
almost without rest, in making over and improving old laws and proposing new 
ones. Vii-ginia was settled by many proud old families, who strongly opposed 
evt-rN-thing that they feared would interfere with their privileges. Jefferson was 
of grantl old stock, too, but with him the new era of equality and liberty had 
opened : lir had its int^'rests at heai-t, and untiringly used both voice and pen in 
tlieir hchair. Among the most important of his reforms were the establishment of 
rrligions ficcddni and s1()|)ping the importation of slaves. Others were in regai'd to 



Thomas Jefferson. 71 

the holding- and inheritance of property, for to his mind the aristocratic old English 
customs and laws were out of place in a republican g-overnraent. He also made 
up a complete plan for common school and higher education in Virginia. 

During the whole of the war Jefferson was active and busy at the head of 
civil affairs in his native State. He followed Patrick Henry as Governor. He 
held this office during the most gloomy time in the conflict, but not with great 
credit, for he was not a military- man, and several times the State and his own 
life were endangered by the enemj^'s forces. He saw this himself and refused the 
office a second term, and General Nelson, of Yorktown, was chosen in his place. 

In 1783 he repoited the settlement of the peace treaty to Congress, and an- 
nounced that the world acknowledged the independence which the Americans had 
declared on the Fourth of July, seven years before. At the next session his bill 
for the Federal coinage was passed, and the pounds, shillings, and pence of Eng- 
land were displaced for the national currency of the United States ; he also took a 
noted and active part in regard to the government of the Western tei'ritory and 
many other important mattei's ; and, excepting that Congress would not agree to 
Ms measures for "the total abolition of slavery after the year 1800," his plans 
were adopted as he presented them. 

The larg'er part of the next five years was spent by Jefferson in Government 
business with foreign countries, mostly as American Minister to Paris, in place of 
the honored Benjamin Franklin. This was a happy time to the great Vii-ginian, 
whose life had been filled with many cares and sorrows beside the duties of pub- 
lic life. He published there his famous book, called " Notes on Vii-ginia," which 
is the finest of his writings and attracted a great deal of attention and praise 
throughout all Europe. 

In 1789 he asked to come home. He reached America soon after Washington 
was elected President, and accepted the second place in the nation by becoming- 
Secretary of State. Up to this time there had been scarcely any part^' feeling in 
the country. But Jefferson had not been in office long before a pi-etty distinct 
division of party views was plain among the people. Alexander Hamilton, in 
favor of Federal government, was at the head of the old party, the Federalists, 
Avho, as opposed to the Royalists, had won the independence of the land. But 
now there was a new division. Jefferson believed in States' rights, opposed the 
Constitution, and taking a stand against many of Hamilton's views, became 
leader of the new Republican party, the same that was afterward called the 
Democratic party, and has been one of the great elements in the politics of the 
United States ever since. This party insisted upon each State being more im- 
portant than the one government over them all, and thought that the Federal 
power ought to be as limited as possible. This brought out a good deal of strong 



72 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

fei'liiift- and opposition, so that party feeling" was far stronger than national feeling- 
witli many people on both sides. 

After Washington, John Adams and Jefferson were about the most promi- 
nent men in the country, so, when the time for another election came round, and the 
o-reat first President gave notice that he would not accept another term of office, 
these two received more A'otes than any others for the Presidency. According to 
the Uiw then in force, Adams, having the most votes, was President, and Jeffer- 
son, with the next largest number, Avas Vice-President. 

For these four years he led a quiet life, as is the usual custom with Vice- 
Presidents : but when the lively contest for the next election came he stepped 
forth once more, more prominent than ever, and for eight years was not o\\\y at 
the head of the nation, but the foremost of American statesmen. He began at 
once a great many reforms, especially against the stately and formal manners 
and the expensive public customs that had before existed. He rode to his in- 
auguration alone and on horseback, where others before him had gone in a coach 
drawn by four horses. He sent a written message to Congress instead of going 
himself and delivering a formal speech, as the others did ; and in many other 
things he carried his " Jeffersonian simplicity," as it is commonly spoken of, so 
far that we were ridiculed abroad as a careless-behaving and ill-bred people. 

The only very important event in this President's first term — when the 
polished Aaron Burr was Vice-President — was the famous "Louisiana purchase." 
Tliis was to buy the gi-eat territory that, adjoining the United States on the west, 
extended from the Mississippi River to the Rocky Mountains. It was as lai'ge as 
the whole of the United States possessions, and was offered by Napoleon for fif- 
teen millions of dollars. As Congress was not then in session, Jefferson took the 
responsil)ilit\- of tlu; great purchase; upon himself, for he feai'ed that even if Congress 
were called to a special session, it would oppose the plan ; and he knew that there 
was no time to be lost, for if the United States did not buy the great tract, Eng- 
land was already almost prepared to make a desperate attempt to get it away from 
France. It was a bold deed, which many people strongly censured at the time, 
but wliich has pi-oved — as Jefferson foresaw it would — one of the greatest benefits 
our nation could have received. George Clinton, who Avas a great and prominent 
man, the first R('i)ul)lican of New York and the father of our common schools, 
was Vice-President during Jetferson's second term ; and this was a more stirring 
time tlian the first. 

Among tlic most imjiortant events of this administration was the gi-eat trial 
of Aaron V>\\v\\ who. hy his wild operations in Mexico, drew the Government into 
troultlf Willi S|»:iiii and into other serious difficulties. A short time after this, 
Hamilliiii. Hit- grcal Fcdeialist leader, died also by the hand of Burr. Steps were 



Jolin Jay. 73 

taken in other countries that ruined our foreign trade and caused g-reat money 
troubles throughout the land ; and, greatest concern of all. Great Britain issued 
a "right of search," by which she claimed — and took — the privilege of boarding- 
our vessels when they were found on the high seas, to search for her own subjects, 
according to the doctrine that any one who had once been a British subject was 
so always. • B3' this a great many of our sailoi's, in spite of their pi'otests, Avere 
impressed into the British service, until finally it was done for the last time in 
June, 1807, when the English ship Richard fired into the American frigate 
Chesapeake, boarded her, and carried away four men who were declared to be 
British deserters. The whole country was roused. The President declared 
against any armed British vessels coming into American waters, and also issued 
the Embargo Act, which forbade all American vessels from leaving home ports. 
This poorly' met the trouble, for it killed all foreign trade, and there was a sti'ong 
feeling against it. The old Federal party woke up to new life to resist it, and 
only a few days before the third President's term closed, the act was repealed. 

Jefferson's political life closed in 1809, and in his quiet home at Monticello, 
Virginia, he spent the remainder of his days, devoting a large amount of thought 
and money to establishing the University of Virginia, at Charlottesville, to which 
he gave great care, and was proud of calling himself the father. 

Thomas Jefferson was born at Shadwell, A^irginia, April 2, 1743. He died 
at Monticello, a portion of the old family estate, July 4, 1826. 

The year after Jefferson was admitted to the Virginia bar, John Jay became 
a lawyer in New York. The two men were about the same age — Ja\- a little the 
younger — and both very soon became distinguished, not only as laAy^'ers, but also as 
earnest, able patriots. They Avere not old enough to take any part in the Stamp 
Act excitement, but they became so prominent in the affairs that soon followed, that 
they were both sent to the first Continental Congress in 1774. Jay was the leading 
man from New York, and Avas put upon the famous committee of three to pi-epare 
the address to the people of Great Britain, Avhich AA^as sent Avith an api^eal to the 
King for the rights of the American Colonies. He dreAv up this paper alone, and 
Jefferson, not knoAving Avho AA^rote it, said, "It is the production of the finest pen 
in America.'' 

After this there AA^ere many important papers, and difficult errands of states- 
manship Avhich John Jay Avas called upon to fulfill, for his oAvn Colony and for 
Congress, and he thrcAv his Avhole strength and spirit into the Avork. Duties in 
the NcAv York convention kept him awaj^ from Congress when the Declaration was 
adopted, but, warml^^ in favor of it, he supported it cordially* and did a great deal 
to make the umvilling New Yorkers adopt it. Almost as soon as he returned to 



';4 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Fliiladelphia he was elected President of Congress, and lor nearly a year he pre- 
sided over that body of great men, with great dignity and abihty, while he was 
also Cliief Justice of the Court of New York. 

The next year he went to Europe, and was kept there by Government business 
(hiring all the years of 1 lie war, and until some time after the treaty with England 
was signed at Paris in 1 ;m;{. On coming home he found that Congress had made 
hi I a Hecretai-y of Foreign Affairs. As the Government w^as then in very unset- 
tled and unpleasant relations to European nations, and without almost any power 
and dignity of its own, this was the most important office in the land. Jay cheer- 
fully took up its many and difficult duties and attended to them ably and faith- 
fully as long as the Govermnent by Congress lasted. 

In the eighth year of American independence the Government was reorganized 
under the new Federal Constitution, and when George Washington, at the head 
of the nation, was forming his Cabinet, he otfered Mr. Jay the choice of the offices 
in his gift. He felt that no one Avas more deserving of this choice, nor better fit- 
ted to fill the duties of whatever post he might select, for at this time Jay was a 
man over forty yeai's old. and had proved himself a thorough statesman in some 
of the most trying allairs of the nation. He selected the office of Chief Justice of 
the Supreme Court, and in him tlie bar of the nation had for its first chief one whose 
Icai-iring and ability, and prudence, mildness, and firmness were a worthy model 
t'oi- all who might follow. 

He did not wush to undertake the errand to England to settle the differences 
lietween the two countries in 1794. He knew very well that it would be impossi- 
l)l(' at that time for any one to niake a treaty with Great Britain that would meet 
with favor from all of the public, for the feeling of the people w^as much di- 
vided. However, he went, and the settlement famous in history as ''Jay's 
Treaty" was agreed upon before the close of the year. There was great op])osi- 
tion to it in France and by the ••' French party," or people favorable to France in 
t his country. So much excitement was raised about it that mobs gathered in the 
cities, lit bonfires, threatened many things, and they even burned an effigy of Jay 
in Boston. But Alexander Hamilton, Fisher Ames, and some of the strongest 
men in the country supported the treat}-, audit was finally adopted, and remamed 
ill torce for about ten years. 

By tlie time the ambassador returned, the matter was quietly accepted in this 
country, and he found himself already elected Governor of New York. Wliile he 
hi -1(1 this office, slavery was abolished in the State, for Jay had long been a strong 
advocate of anti-slavery in all parts of the country, and was President of one of 
its largest societies. He served as Governor for two terms, but declined a 
third, :ind also ivfuscd the offer of his old office of United States Chief Jus- 



De Witt Clinton. 75 

tice. He was then nearly sixty years old, and wished to spend the rest of his 
days out of politics and public life, excepting- where he could be useful in helping- 
along- niattei-s of national peace, temperance, religion, and liberty for slaves. He 
was a devout and earnest man, of uprig-ht moral character, deep piety, and lofty 
unselfishness and patriotism. 

John Jay was born in New York City, December 12, 1745, He died at Bedford, 
New York, May 17, 1829. 

Probably the ablest statesman that ever followed John Jay as Governor of 
New York was De Witt Clinton. Fresh from college and law studies, he be- 
g-an his political life as private secretary to his uncle, the honoi-ed Georg-e Clinton, 
Avho was Governor before Jay ; and althoug-h he was then only twenty-one years old, 
he soon had an active part in the public affairs of the day. In the course of about 
twelve years, he rose from one office to another, and became the chief leader of the 
Democratic party in New York, aithoug-h after the Democrats were united 
to the Tammany Society, he became a stanch Republican. He was legislator 
and Senator in the State, United States Senator, and in 1803 became Mayor of 
New York City. This was then a very important office, for the Mayor was also 
President of the Council, and Chief Judge of the Common Pleas and the Ci'iminal 
Courts. *'He was," says an American writer, " on all sides looked upon as the 
most rising- man in the Union," Altog-ether he held the office of Mayor for eig-ht 
years, and the Empire City prospered veiy much under his wise and able manage- 
ment. 

The New York Historical Society, the old Academy of Arts, the first Orphan 
Asylum, and other institutions to encourag-e art, literature, science, and benevo- 
lence, were founded by him or throug-h his influence. A larg-e part of his life was 
devoted to establishing- free schools, public librai-ies, and other aids to students 
who cannot obtain a costly education. 

During- the last years that he was Mayor, he was also Lieutenant-Governor of 
the State, and in 1817 he was almost unanimously' elected Governor, His g-reat 
object, during- both his first and second terms as Governor, was to have the 
State carry out Jesse Hawley's plan for the Erie Canal, Throug-h his efforts a 
bill authorizing- the building- of this canal was passed by the Leg-islature in the 
spring- that he was elected Govei-nor, and his chief object now was to see it com- 
pleted. But people did not believe it possible, and the State would not provide 
money to continue the work. 

Clinton's "big- ditch" became a standing- joke for all the wits and newspapers 
in the country-. It was ridiculous— people said — to think of making- a canal sixty- 
three miles long-, and supposing- that it could ever be used for boats to g-o from the 



7(3 Que Hniulred Fanwiis Americans. 

seaboard to the great lakes. While many merely made fun it, a large party foug-ht 
against it, as a scheme that would be a g-reat loss to the State. Chnton declined 
to be Governor in 18-3:3, and his enemies streng-thened very much the opposition to 
his plans, and even removed him from the presidency of the Canal Commission. 
But this was so unjust that the people rallied around him, and elected liini Gov- 
ernor ag-ain llie next term b\- the largest majority a candidate for tliat office 
ever received. 

Clinton and his friends, meanwhile, had been keeping steadily at Avork toward 
proving- the value of their great plan : and in 1825 the "ditch" was finished, the 
sluices were opened, and the Avaters of Lake Erie made their way to the sea, form- 
ing- a water-course that is Avortli millions of dollars to the State and the nation, 
every year. Those who had called Clinton insane before now praised him without 
measure. Bonfires and fire-Avorks, speeches and processions Avere the order of the 
(la\-, and Clinton Avas its hero. A great majority re-elected him as Governor. 
President John Quincy Adams offered him the place of Ambassador to England, 
but he declined that, as he still had work to do in his OAvn State. This Avas a 
change in the Constitution so as to alloAV universal suffrage at elections, and has 
since been carried out, although Clinton did not live to see it, for he died suddenly 
at Albany, in the mi«lst of his Avork and of the popularity Avhich — outside of his 
party — was a long while in coming to him. 

Few people have done so much for their covmtry and so influenced their times as 
this tall, distinguished-looking man, whose rugged, sincAvy frame and massive 
head bespoke the power as well as the haughty nature Avithin. Although he 
sometimes lost sight of party as Avell as personal friends in his high ambition, espe- 
cially in his -' never unworthy, but ahvays uuAvise " desire to reach the President's 
chair, and while his bravery Avas sometimes rashness, and by not controlling his 
temper he too often got into needless difficulties Avith others, he has been ranked 
as " Avithout exception the greatest man of the period to Avhich he belonged." and 
" one of the few Avho are not OA-ershadoAved by the greater merits and opportimi- 
ties of those Avho came before him and liaA^e a ReA'olutionary renown." 

The futui'e and the present Avants of his country, in its uncertain condition after 
the Avar, Avere cleai'ly before his eyes, and he had the courage to labor for this 
Avith untii-ing zeal at a time when a large number of the men around him had feAv 
motives above personal i-enown or gains and party spite, and devoted themseUes 
to abusing him, misrepresenting him, and openly attacking all that he did. One 
bitter defeat the.A- secured, but he appeared again after a few years, stronger 
than evei-, e(|ual to {'xery ofTicial responsibility, and Avith a stronghold on the mass 
of people, partly won by his ability as an oi-ator, and ])artly on account of his good 
deeds of kiiiihicss. He always took iij) the rights of the Aveak against the strong, 



De Witt Clinton. TT 

and " there was not a poor man in New York but looked up to him as a friend and 
admired that stateliness of hearing- which others called haug-htiness." In spite of 




De Witt Clinton. 
all his ancient enemies — the Tammany party— could do against him, he held the 
people's love until the day of his death. 

De Witt Clinton was born at Little Britain, New York, March 2, 1769. He 
(lied in the Governor's chair, at Albany, February 11, 1828. 



LATER STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 



A BOUT lifteen years after Patrick Henry's great g-eniiis first awoke in ])lead- 
-i-TV. ing ag-ainst the famous "Parson's Cause," Henry Clay, the second of 
America's greatest orators, was born, in a low, swampj^ district called the 
" Slashes," only a few miles away from the very tavern Avhere Henry had lived. 
He began his education at a log'-cabin school-house in Hanover County. His father 
died when he was about five years old, leaving a large family and scarcely any- 
tliing to support them, so it was Clay's duty to work, more than to study, even 
while he was ver.y young. He did chores, helped on the farming, and carried 
g-raiii to the mill. This is why, in after years, he was called the " Mill-boy of the 
Slashes." 

When fourteen years old he went into a store in Richmond, from which he was 
taken into the office of the Clerk of the Court of Chancery. He was an awkward 
boy then, and the othei" lads in the office made fim of him. But they found out, 
before long, that he was able to take his own part, and that it was better to have 
Henry Clay for a friend than an enem3\ 

His work was mostly dull copying, but he gathered from it all the knoAvledge 
and hints about law that he could, and so pleased the Chancellor that he asked him 
to become his private secretary. The Chancellor was a very industrious and 
pain.staking man, not only in studying- law, but in gathering- general knowledge. 
His secretary was just the sort of an energetic, studious fellow he liked, so he 
talked with him and taught him a gi^eat deal, and always found him glad to learn. 

In a little while Clay began to read law, and did it so earnestlj^ and thoroughly 
that he was able to practice before he was twenty-one. Although he was bright 
and winning in liis manners, he did not seek gay, hvely young people for his com- 
panions ; most of his time was given to work, but he had a few well-chosen young- 
friends, and never lost a chance to be with good men and women from whom he 
could learn wisdom in knowledge and character. 

The year- in which Henry Clay was admitted to the bar, there were a great 
many people moving westward to settle the fertile valleys of Kentucky. The 
young lawyer thought this would be a good chance for him to build up a fine 



Henry Clay. 



7f> 



practice, and so he became a citizen of Lexing-ton. He was very poor at first, l)ut 
whatever he undei-took was so well done that he soon became widely known and 




Henry Clay. 



had plenty of business. In a few years he married a Kentucky lady, and beg-an 
to take an active part in politics on the side of the newly-formed Republican part\-, 
led by Thomas Jefferson, and opposed to the Federal party, led by Alexander 
Hamilton. 



go One Hundred Famous Americans. 

About tliis time, the people of Kentucky were making over tlieir Constitution, 
and Clay worked so zealously to have slavery put out of the State that he lost a 
j4-reat deal of his popularity, for Kentucky had large interests in slave labor. But 
he came back into favor again after his noble opposition to the Alien and Sedition 
Laws, described in the sketch of John Adams ; and in 1803 he was elected to the 
Kentucky Legislatui'e b}- a lai-ge vote. He was now among the foremost men of his 
State, and was soon sent to the United States Senate to finish out the term of a 
man who had retired. In about three j^ears more he was returned by regular 
election, and aftei- that term was over he became a member of the House of Rep- 
resentatives in Washington, where he was elected Speaker after a few months. 

These were in the early years of this century, when troubles were thickening- 
bet ween England and America for a second time. Clay's stand was decidedly in 
favor of letting the war come on. He is said to have done more than any one else 
toward the success of the war party, which was led by John C. Calhoun, of South 
Carolina, then a new member, but a great power. Clay strongly denounced Eng- 
land's claim of right to search our vessels on the high seas and take away our sailors 
because they had once been British subjects, and he declared that we should hold to 
our rights as a nati(3fi at whatever cost. But he was not a lover of strife, as Cal- 
houn seemed to be, and when Russia offered, as a friend to both countries, to help 
arrauge some terms of peace, " Hariy of the West," as Clay was called, was 
thought to be a wise person to put upon the committee foi' the United States. With 
foui- otlier commissioners, he went to Ghent, iu Belgium, where a treaty was 
agreed upon the day before Chiistinas, 1814. This treaty ended the war, and by 
Clay "s cai-ef ul management was made favorable to the United States in many ways. 

On ccjming back to America, he was at once re-elected to Congress and to the 
Speakership, which post he held thirteen j-^ears altogether. There Avas a powerful 
<M(ler and a charming dignity in the way in which he presided over the restless 
and excitable body of Representatives, whose sessions are so different from the 
calm and sedate meetings of the Senate; and during all the time not one of his de- 
cisions was reversed. In 1818 he made one of the most brilhant and successful 
speeches ever delivered in Congress. It was m favor of recognizing the Republics 
of Soulh America, and besides the honest and generous sympathy extended 
tlu-()\igli its influence by the United States to the strugghng nations of the South, 
il laised o\u- nation in the sight of others. This was soon followed by a great and 
successful effort to establish a national system of improvements in the interior of 
the counti-y : and in the next year he entered ui^on the large and important work of 
an-anging a pVan of t^irilf rates, or taxes upon goods brought from other countries. 
This was done to protect American industries— that is, to prevent dealers from 
l.eing able to import European goods and sell them here for lower prices than 



Henry Clay. 81 

American makers could afford to supply the market, bein.^ new to their bus- 
iness and not able to manufacture so cheaply as old established houses with 
experienced workmen. This was a great task, and it was a long- time before 
it could be arranged so that American manufactures were profitable. In 1824 
the duties were increased, for home ti-ade was still very poor. But there was a 
good deal of strong feelmg against this among those who were not interested in 
manufactures, and in this year the struggle opened between Protection — or high 
tariff — and Free Ti-ade, which is a low revenue taiiff, or none at all. 

In about four years after the tariff was raised, a new rate of still higher duties 
was adopted ; and the revenue thus brought in was set aside, b}^ act of Congress, 
for building and improving roads, making canals, deepening rivers and harbors, 
and othei- works for the benefit of the countr}^, which are all called b}^ the one name 
of internal improvements. This use of the protective tariff revenues, for the much- 
needed internal improvements, was a new idea, and became known as the "Amei'- 
ican system." Some people — mosth" members of the old Republican party, now 
known as the Democratic party — did not approve of it ; but John Quincy Adams, 
now President, and Henry Clay, who had become Secretary of State, were able 
supporters of it. In a few years it led, partially-, to the formation of a new party, 
who called themselves the Whigs, and looked upon Clay as their leader. They 
supported the Bank, and in almost everything held the views opposite to those of 
General Jackson, a leader of the Democrats, whose services in the Mexican War 
had made him very popular. He ran for President against Adams and was 
elected in 1829. Then Clay left the Cabinet, and in a couple of years became 
United States Senator. He ran against Jackson for President, before the second 
election of popular '^ Old Hickory," and in the same yeai- di-ew up the Compi-o- 
mise Tariff between the Federal Government and the " nullifiers " of the South, 
which is known as " Clay's Avorst compromise." 

Several years before this, when Clay was Speaker of the House and before John 
Quinc}' Adams was President, he was chief supporter of the famous Missouri Com- 
promise. This was in 1821, when a long and bitter struggle took place between 
the pro-slavery and anti-slavery parties over the admission of Missouri into the 
Union. The Compromise admitted Missouri as a slave State, but prohibited it in 
the Territories, north of 3G° 30' North latitude. Mason and Dixon's Line. The dis- 
putes that had been constantly wrangling between the North and South, and grown 
very hot of late, were settled by this measure for about twenty-five yeai'S. 

After this Mr. Clay was out of politics foi- about three years, attending to his 
profession and earning mone^^ to cover some large private losses he had had. But 
in 1823 he returned and Avas elected Speaker once more by a large vote. It 
was during this session that Webster made his famous resolutions in behalf of 



82 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

the Greeks suffering- from the tyranny of the Turks, which Clay most heartily 
supported. 

Soutlierner as he was, Henry Clay was also a firm Union man. In one of his 
speeches he said he owed his first and i^-reat duty to the whole Union, and under 
that and after it came the claims of his State. He was strongiy in favor of grad- 
ually putting' down slavery; but, as a celebrated writer has said, compromises can 
only be made ujion measures, not with principles, and so the most that they could 
effect was to keep off the day of outbreak. Meanwhile the evil w^as going- on, both 
parties were strengthening, and the opposition growing deeper and more bitter all 
the while. 

From the time he ran against Jackson, his party was always wanting to make 
him President. Once he declined and twice he j^ielded, but he w^as never elected. 
In the campaign when the Democrats elected Polk, he was earnestly opposed to 
adding Texas to the United States, and declared that no earthly power should ever 
induce him to consent to the addition of one acre of slave territor}^ to the United 
States. But the measure w^as carried hy Calhoun, who took the office of Secre- 
tary of State long enough to accomplish it, and then returned to the Senate, where 
he was laboring zealously for the interests of the South. 

Clay was now an old man, but his courteous manner and personal magnetism 
still won new friends as they kept the old ones, and his matchless voice, sweeping" 
gestures, and splendid attitudes still held foremost place among the splendid tal- 
ents of the yomiger men in both the House and the Senate. 

The last great effort of his life was to secure the series of measures, known in 
histoi-y as the Compromise Act of 1850, and which postponed the conflict between 
freedom and slavery for ten years more. 

Henry Clay was born in " The Slashes " of Hanover County, Virginia, April 
VI, 1777. He died in the cit}^ of Washington, June 29, 1852. 

After tlie death of Henry Clay, th(^ ablest statesman and orator in America 
was acknowledged by all to be Daniel Webster. Many people thought him 
greater than Clay, and undoubtedly he was as a statesman and a jurist, although 
not perhaps as a speaker. 

When lie first took his seat in the House of Representatives at Washington, 
at the extr-a session of the Thirteenth Congress, he was about thirty years old, and 
I was already noted as one of the soundest law^yers in New Hampshire. But at that 
time few peo[)le imagined the knowledge as a jurist, the profound ability as a 
stat«\s'man, and the mighty powers as an orator that lay hidden within this massive 
head, with its dark skin and deep-set eyes. Few people knew anything about the 
laboi-s he had been putting himself to in the years before, and the story of his 



Daniel Webster. 



83 



early clays, which young- and old delight in now, was then deemed scarcely worth 
the telling-. He was a poor boy, the son of a New Hampshire farmer who kept a 
tavern, and had beg-un to study and to make himself useful as far back as he 
could remember. The first twenty-five cents he ever earned was given to a ped- 
dler for a handkerchief, on which the Constitution of the United States was printed. 




Daniel Webster. 

He read this over and over until he could repeat every word from memory, and 
so his life-long- study of the Constitution was begun. By the light of the log-fire 
at night he committed to memory hymns and verses from the Bible and read Addi- 
son's " Spectator." He would do almost anything- for the loan of a book, which 
he would carry about in his pocket and study during- odd minutes when he was on 
the farm, g-oing on errands, or waiting for the logs to run through the mill. 

One day when Daniel and his father were in the hayfield a man rode up and 
talked with the father for a few minutes. After he was gone, Squire Webster said, 



84 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

" Dan, by a few votes, that man beat me in .^-ettiiii,^ into Congress, because he had a 
better education. You shall liave an education, and then you must Avork your 
Avay to Con^-ress." But Daniel, delighted as he Avas with the prospect of going- to 
school, would not go unless his brother Ezekiel could go too ; so the farm was mort- 
gaged antl both Axent. But even this would not last long enough for both to finish 
their studies ; so, after Daniel had got a start at Phillips Exeter Academy, he 
taught school for awhile and copied law-papers in the evening. Everything seems 
to turn to good account with him. From the dull work of copying he grew in- 
terested in law, and resolved to study it. Teaching part of the time to pay his 
expenses, he fitted for college, and entered Dartmouth in 17!):. Ezekiel meanwhile 
had finislu>d his studies and was becoming a brilliant lawyer. 

Daniel gave no great promise in college; he was a good scholar, had a wonder- 
ful memor\-. and never shrank from the work or trouble of getting thoroughly 
informed on a subject. It was said that during all his school life he was never 
late, never out of place, and never had a poor ri^citation. But for all this, he 
was not distinguished, and did not make any show at graduation, though he left 
college with a perfectly clean record and high standing. Not one mark of disap- 
|)i-ov:il had ever stood against his name. 

S([uii'e Webster, now a judge, olitained for Daniel a position as clerk in his 
coiut. with a salary of fifteen huudi'cd dollars a year. But the young man re- 
fused it, saA'ing, '*I propose to be an actor, and not a register of other men's 
acts." The old gentleman was disappointed. He said there were already more 
lawyers than the country needed, and Daniel replied, "There is room enough at 
the top.'' So, against the advice of his friends, and without help or encourage- 
ment, he set to work to study law. After he could learn no more from the 
country lawyers, he went to Boston. Step by step, with patience, judgment, and 
hard work, he made his way to the Boston bar and finally to Congress, where he 
went far beyond his father's fondest hope, and took rank at once among the 
greatest men of the nation. 

This was a very important time with us, for war had just been declared 
against Great Bi'itain on account of the impressment of American seamen and 
other annoyances from our old enemy. Congress was deep in the gravest of con- 
siderations, and Henry Clay, Speaker of the lower House, placed Mr. Webster 
on the very important Committee on Foreign Affairs. He took sides at once 
against the war measures and in favor of making a better Navy, and after his 
first speech he became acknowledged, both in and out of Congress, as the New 
England leader of the old Federal party. This was then in violent opposition to 
the Democrats and the war party, led by John C. Calhoun, of South Carolina, 
and supported by Henry Claj". 



Daniel Webster. 85 

From this time forth, whether representiiii^- tlie Granite State in Conj^i-ess, 
following- his profession in Boston, or dnring- the long- periods when he stood for 
Massachusetts, first as a Congressman and later as a Senatoi', or wlien he served 
under the Harrison-Tyler and the Fillmore administrations as Secretary of State 
— altogether a period of almost forty years— Mr. Webster devoted himself with 
zeal and wisdom to all the greatest public matters of his time, both in law and in 
politics. His influence in many important steps in our country's progress is felt 
to this day, and will always be felt as long as the nation exists. 

He left Washington and politics in 1816, and making his home in Boston in- 
stead of New Hampshire, devoted himself to his business. In a very short time 
he became the leading lawyer in New Eng-land. His first g-reat case was about 
Dartmouth College, and in ai'guing this l^efore the Supreme Court of the United 
States, he not only won his cause and spi-ead his fame over the whole countiy% but 
secured a decision upon which a point of laAv about colleg-e charters has firmly 
rested evei- since. After that he was retained hy the Govei'ument in nearly- all 
the impoi'tant cases that were argued befoi'e the Supi-eme Coui-t at W^ashington. 

He had a magnificent power of setting- forth truth ; his eloquent, forcible 
words ; his profound knowledge ; his deep, musical voice, and his commanding- 
figure, cari'ied the opinions of judges, juries, and spectators into the ciu-rent of 
his own arg-uments. 

Much of Mr. AVebster's fame also rests upon the public orations which he made 
in honor of great national events. The first of these was delivei'ed at Pl^^mouth 
in 1830, on the anniversary of the landing- of the Pilgi'ims. Five years later he 
gave another, when the corner-stone for the Bvmker Hill Monument was laid ; 
which was followed \)y still another when the monument was finished in 1843. 
But the most bi'illiant of all, perhaps, was the eulog-j' on the two g-reat patriots, 
Thomas Jeffc'ei'son and John Adams, who died the same day, just fdty years after 
the Declaration of Independence, which one wrote for Congress and the other read 
before it. This address was made in Faneuil Hall, in the summer of 1826, and as 
the vast audience looked on the noble, dignified presence before them and listened 
to the powerful voice pouring- out eloquence and patriotism as he imag-ined John 
Adams had done fifty years before, they forg-ot the present. They were back 
in the old Colonial days, with British tyranny over them, the great strug-g-le for 
independence, before them and the mettle of the new nation still untried. Webster 
had been back in Congress about foui' years by this time, and had already made 
his famous speech there in behalf of the Greeks under the Turkish oppression, in 
which he most powerfully denounced the principles of the Holy Alliance. 

He remained in Cong-ress for five years, taking an active part in some of the 
debates, and in the revising of the whole of the United States Criminal LaAv, 



86 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

whicli is oiu' of the most important of all his services to the nation. In 1838 
he went from the House to the Senate, and voted for Clay's great tariff bill of 
lliat year. This was the chief cause of the new Whig party being- formed, in 
which Clav anil Webster were the foi-eniost men. On his record as Senator 
o\er\tliing else is cast in the shadow hy his famous reply to Robert Y. Hayne, of 
South Carolina, in what is always known as the Great Debate of the Senate. 
Never, before oi' after, did the genius of Daniel Webstei' rise to such wonderful 
power as in those two days, January 2G and 37, 1830, when, denying- the rig-ht of 
any State to " nullify "' the Federal laws, he defended the Union and the Consti- 
tution in the most remarkable speech ever delivered in either house of the United 
States Congress. 

Like all his speeches, thei'e was great literar^' merit in this argument . •' It was 
intended." says an eminent American critic, " as a defense of his political posi- 
tion, as an exposition of the constitutional law, and a vindication of what he 
deemed to be the true policy of the country.'' 

He had no thought of gaining literar^^^ fame by it, and 3^et the speech, even to 
those who lake little interest in subjects like the tariff, nullification, and the pub- 
lic lands, will eyei- be interesting, fi'om its profound knowledg'e, its clear arrang-e- 
ment. the broad stamp of nationality it bears, and the wit, sarcasm, and splendid, 
impassioned eloquence, ^yhich add bi-illiance to its wisdom and clearness to "the 
elose and rapid march of its argument." 

In debate upon the tai'itf he was the g'reat opponent of Calhoun, and in politics 
he was one of the most popular leaders of the Whig's. Long- ago. during his first 
session in the Legislature, the adoption of his resolution that all payments to the 
public Treasury should be made in specie, or money that stood for specie, greatly 
im|)r()ved the currency of the countiy. In 18;i3 he made a very impoi'tant address 
in fa\oi' of renewing the charter of the United States Bank, and ag'ain, five years 
kiter. he spokr strongly and ably against the Sub-Treasury. 

He did a gr(>at deal to secure the election of Cenei-al Hari'ison, wiio made him 
Seci-etai-y of State, and Avhen all the other members retii'ed from Tyler's Cabinet, 
lie stood by the administration until the dispute about the Northeastern boundary 
of the Unitetl States was peaceably settled. This important treaty, which, being- 
mack' between Webster and Lord Ashburton, is known as the Webster- Ashburton 
treaty, settled a long and serious difference which it was often feai'ed would finally 
enil in war. 

Like Clay, hf opposed adding Texas to the Union, on account of extending 
slayery : he was not in fayoi- of i)ushing on with the Mexican War for the sake of 
getting teri-itoi-y to form new States for the Union ; and although he wanted to 
.see the country free fi-om slayeiy, he l)elieved, Ayith Clay, that it must be done 



Daniel Webster. 87 

«Tadiially, and greatly disappointed nianj^ of his admirers, when he supported 
Clay's compi'oniise measures of 1850. It was upon this and the Wihnot Proviso 
against slavery in new territory that he made his last speech in the Senate. Soon 
iifter, he became Secretary of State in President Fillmore's Cabinet, but he did 
not live to see the next election. As a statesman, a lawyer, a writer, and a speaker 
his place is very high. 

•"Our impression is," said an able English writer, '" that excepting for Mira- 
beau, Chatham, Fox, and Bi'ougham, no speaker entirely the match of Daniel 
Webster has trod the world-stage for full two centuries." 

Among his own countrymen, too, he has received the highest praise. His 
speeches '' take the highest rank among the best productions of the American 
intellect. They are thoroughly national in theii- spirit and tone, and aj"e full of 
principles, arguments, and appeals, which come directly home to the hearts and 
understanding of the great body of the people. . . . They are storehouses of 
thought and knowledge, solid judgment, high sentiment, and broad and generous 
views of national policy." 

He was every inch an American, "His whole life has been passed in the 
country of his birth, and his fame and honors are all closely- connected with 
American feelings and institutions. His Avoi-ks all refer to the history, the pol- 
icy, the laws, the government, the social life, and the destiny of his own land. 
. He was a man whose youth saw the foimdation of our Government, and 
whose manhood was spent in exercising some of its highest offices, who was born 
on our soil, educated amid our people, exposed to all the good and the bad influ- 
ences of our society ; and who has acquired high station by no sacrifices of man- 
liness, 251'inciple, or individuality, but l)y a sti-aightforward force of chai-icter and 
vigor of intellect. A fame such as he has obtained is worthy of the noblest am- 
bition ; it reflects honor on the whole nation ; it is stained by no meanness, or 
fear, or subserviency ; it is the result of a long life of intellectual labor, employed 
in making clear the si3irit of our laws and government, in defending the prin- 
ciples of our institutions, in spreading enlarged views of patriotism and dutj^ 
and in ennobling, by the highest sentiments of freedom and religion, the heroical 
events of our national history." 

When the great statesman was seventy years old, his birthday w^as cele- 
brated in Boston by a grand ovation. In the speech he made thanking his 
friends for the honor they paid him, he told the secret of his success in the 
words, " Work has made me what I am. I never ate a bit of idle bread in m^^ 
life." 

Daniel Webster was liorn at Salisbury, New Hampshire, January 18, 1782. 
_He died at Marshfield, Massachusetts, October, 24, 1852. 



88 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Robert Y. Hayne was an able opponent to Webster, and their great debate 
■vvas, on l)oth sides, one of the most remarkable which ever occurred in the Senate. 
It was bei^ini by General Hayne, who, speaking- upon some question that grew 
out of a resolution about the sale of the public lands, declared that the Eastern 
Stak's had shown a mean policy toward tlie West, to which Mr. Webster an- 
swered, showing that New England had been mijustly acccused, and the Govei'n- 
nieut also. Then it was that Mr. Hayne began the real argument of the great 
debate, attacking Mr. Webster, Massachusetts, and the other Northern States, 
and finally the Constitution itself. He spoke with powerful, brilliant eloquence, 
and a great deal of force. He had chosen his own time, and carefully prepared 
himself for his undertaking. Facts from personal history, from the annals of 
New EngJand, and from the long records of the Federal party had been faithfully 
gleaned and ])repared for argument with a master hand. It was a strong speech 
and made a great impression upon the Senate. 

Mr. Webster was just at that time the leading counsel in a very important 
cause, and would have liked to postpone his answer to so great an attack; but 
Mr. Hayne refused; so, with but a single night to make ready, he accepted the 
challenge. The next day and the next, he took up the arguments of his opponent, 
and answered them as' no debater in America, however brilliant, has ever been 
answered before or since. The power of Mr. Webster's reply has forever cast in 
tlie shade the magnilicent speech that called it out. 

Ml'. Hayne — or General Hayne, for he liad won the title of major-general in 
tlir War of 181'^, when he was less than twenty-five years old — was nine years 
younger than Webster. He had been an able and brilliant man in politics for 
many years. From the ag-e of twenty-two as long as he lived he had a greater and 
more paying law practice than any other man in South Carolina. He was elected 
to the State Legislature the year after Webster first took his seat in the Legislature 
at Washington, and became distinguished at once foi' his eloquence and his firm sup- 
poi-t of the war measures in President Madison's administration. He was placed 
in the Senate just as soon as he was old enough — that is, as soon as he reached the 
age of tliirty-two — and remained there for ten years, one of its most able members. 
Like many of the Southei-ners, he was always ready to defend and brmg forward 
tlie principles of States' I'iglits. He was one of the most important members of 
th«> Union and States' Rights Convention which Calhoun was the means of calling 
togetlier at Chark'ston in 18:')->, and was cliairman of the committee which drew up 
llie resolutions against tlie taritf and alarmed the country with its " ordinance of 
inilHlication," and was so promptly met by President Jackson's proclamation:. 
•• Tlic Union must and shall be preserved." 

About a fortnight after this, Mr. Hayne was made Governor of his State, and. 



Robert Young Hmjne. 



89^ 



the defiance which he flimg- baclv to the President filled the conntry with a forelwd- 
ing- that a civil war was close at hand. But for the compromise of Henry Clay, 
Hayne in the Governor's chau- at South Carolina, and Calhoun in the Senate— both 




Robert Young Hayne. 

of them powerful leaders in the South, and as honest and sincere in their views as 
their Northern opponents— would have carried their ordinance into effect and has- 
tened the war by thirty years. 

After this Mr. Hayne's life was devoted with energy to his duties as Governor 



90 One Hundred Famous Amen'caus. 

of liis State, as ]\Ia^•ol• of Charleston, and to improving- the interior of the country. 
From 183: until the time of his death he was the busy, active President of the 
Charleston, Louisville, and Cincinnati Railroad Company, and when he died, every 
honest American, of whatever ^lolitics, felt that one of the noblest, purest-minded 
men of his age had passed awa.N". 

Robert Young Hayne was born near Charleston, Soutli Carolina, November 
11), 1791 ; he died at Ashville, in the same State, September 24, 1840. 

Duiing the first part of this century, slavery was the one great question before 
the American nation, and upon the side in favor of this, far ahead of all other 
statesmen, stood John Caldwell Calhoun. He entered public life as a leg-islator 
in his native State. South Carolina, in 1807, fresh from law studies and onh^ three 
years after his graduation from Yale Colleg'e. 

In a fe^\• N'ears he ^vas elected to Congress, in which he took his seat as a Dem- 
ocrat, and soon became the foremost member of the war party. He was a born 
leader antl politician, aud being matle chairman of the Committee on Foreign Af- 
fairs, from the tii-st he held in the House the next important place to the Speaker- 
ship. The report of this committee, on the 29th of November, 1811, w^as the bugle 
blast for tlie War of 1812. It was taken up by Clay and others, and was never al- 
lowed to sink out of sound until the g'ood news came over the sea that the treaty 
was signed at Ghent, acknowledging America's rig-hts at home and abroad. 

Thus it was that when Calhoun was thirty years old — at the very beginning of 
manhood — he took up the cry of wai", which, his biog-rapher says, ''was to be his 
destiny to the last ddj of his life ; though it was in later years to be waged not 
against a foreign aggressor, but against enemies at home, against the peace of the 
Union, against the ti-ue welfare of his own section of the country.'' 

L<jss than a month aftei- this leport was delivered, lie made his first set speech 
in Congress. It was so strong and earnest, so full of eloquence in his party's 
cause, and so forcil)le against the opponents of the war, that its fame spread 
liu'ough the country far and wide, and John Calhoun's place was rated at once 
iimong tlie leading statesmen of the day. When he spoke, he made his points by 
eloquence and reasoning, not by bullying and hectoring the other side. He re- 
menil)ei'ed the rules of debate like a gentleman even in the warmest contests, and 
liiough he might l)e cutting his way with sharp and stinging weapons, or dealing 
lieavy, stunning blows, he always attacked the argument of his opponent and not 
the man himself. '"From the first," says an able writer, " he entered the lists 
witli the proud conviction of being fully the equal of any man, and he alwa^^s spoke 
in the weigiily tone of authority." At this time he held no narrow views; he 
stood on tiic l)r()a(l('st jiational ground, and his only great error was overheat in 



John Caldwell Calhoun. 



91 



bringing- on too swiftly another war with England before the country had recovered 
far enough from the Revolution to assert itself against that *" peace that was like 
war." It was, to start with at least, ''not a national war, but a party war, or 
rather a war of the party leaders." 




John Caldwell Calhoun. 



In this Calhoun was foremost, unwise but patriotic. In later years his views 

.grew narrower and the slavehol tiers' interests were more to him than those ol 

the nation. But that was some time after this period. He now held exactly the 

-opposite ground to that which he afterward took on all the great questions which 



92 



One Ilniidrcd Famous Americans. 



(iisturlM'd the country so dcH'ply duriui;- the first half century of its existence. He 
ivporteil a l)ill to CoiiiAiess on tlie United States Bank in 181(j, and made a speech 
in ta\or of it. A few months afterward he delivered a long and carefully- prepared 
ai-guuient in favor of protective tariff, which was strong'er— it has been said— than 
••twen Henry Clay and Horace Greeley have been able to put their favorite doc- 
trine." 

The next year he became President Monroe's Secretary of War, and in this 
ollice he did some of the best work of his life. He felt that one of the greatest aids 
toward getting the country into shape to be defended, if it were necessary, would 
be a thoi'ough system of internal improvements, so he prepared a general outline 
of a vast plan of railroads and canals to be built througliout the country. 

When he took charge of the Departiiu>nt of War it was in disorder and confu- 
sion : but he began at once to set it right, and soon brought the whole service into 
good shape. His system was so simple and so efficient, that, in the main, it has 
been followed by all who hav(; come after him, even standing the test of the Civil 
AVar. He took a decided stand against the mean and cheap provisions and furnish- 
ings wliicii many called a proper economy ; and, holding his own with those who 
wanted to screw down the rations and the wages of privates and even of some of the 
ofliicers. he finally succeeded in establishing the fact, that in the army as much 
as elsewhere the best is the cheapest. 

Calhoun had many enemies as well as party opponents, and great slanders were 
laised about him when there was a prospect of his being elected President, but 
time has shown that he was not guilty of the abuses he was accused of. There was 
a good deal of reason for this jealousy, for he Avas very popular with his party, and 
was elected Vice-President wath John Quincy Adams in 1824, and re-elected with 
General Jackson four yeai's later. It was about this time that he changed his 
opinions on tlie tariff, and, along with many others, took up the side of free trade 
because it was nu>re to the interests of the South. Mr. Calhoun had no doubt 
been sincere before, and was sincere now, only before he had felt a broad national 
int<'i'est, and now it was the welfare of the Southern part of the nation that lay 
closest to his heart. From this time, with no less skill and genius than before, he 
went in new wa3's. For the sake of defeating the tariff bill of 1828, he brought 
out the doctrine of the sovereignty of the States, w^hich was the bottom principle 
of disunion. He wrote a paper called the "South Carolina Exposition," setting 
forth that a Stat^i coukl nnllify unconstitutional laws — that is, that any State 
I^egislature could say : "According to our views, this law is not w^arranted by the 
Constitution, and so, to us, it is no law ; Ave look upon it as a dead laAV, null and 
void, and will not oliey it." 

He resigned from the Vice-Presidency sevei'al months before the close of the 



Jolui CahUrell Callioun. 93 

term, and became a Senator. Now at this time the Southern States had steadily 
^rown to<2,"etlier and had entirel3^ diffei'ent interests and feeling's fi'om the North. 
This Avas chiefly because the cotton culture had g-ro\vn so that it was the one g-reat 
featui-e of life to them. The prosperity of the people and of the States hung- upon 
it, and it hung- upon slaA'e-service. So, a protective tariff was exactl,>" Avhat the 
South did not want, althoug-h several years before they had thoug-ht it would be a 
g-ood thing- and were anxious for it. The reason was that the white people felt 
themselves too g-ood to work with their hands, and so they did not set up any man- 
ufactures, but made their money chiefly through cotton and othei' products which 
could be raised by negro service. So, the wealth and industry of the South were in 
plantations, and the people had to g-o somewhere else to bu}^ about all the articles 
that the}" had. The protective tai'iff made it necessary for them to buy infei-ior 
American goods at a hig-her price than the value of real European wares, or to pay 
extravag-ant prices for the foreig-n g-oods. 

Thus it was that, in the interest of tlie South, Calhoun came to believe that free 
trade was the I'ight principle. He swayed the ojiinions of a great mass of people, 
and in the latter part of 183-3 was the means of a convention being- held in South Car- 
olina, which "■ nullified " the tariff, and made warlike preparations to resist the col- 
lection of the revenue on foreig-n goods brought into that State, and to secede from 
the Government if any attempt was made to force them to obey the law. Presi- 
dent Jackson was then working- to have the tariff law repealed, but he was sworn 
to see it carried out so long- as it was a law, and he let it be known that he was re- 
solved to arrest Calhoun for treason on the first open act against the Union. This 
frightened the nulliliers, for they all knew that when he sent down the naval force 
to Charleston Harbor, and despatched General Scott with a body of militia, that 
he meant every word of his declaration when he said, " The Union must and shall 
be preserved ! " So the}' '' suspended " their " nullification," and accepted Henry 
Clay's "■ woi'st compromise " when it was offered the next year. 

Calhoun was now strongly and openly opposed to President Jackson ; he took 
sides against him about the removal of deposits from the United States Baidc, and 
used the question of slaverj^ as a means of uniting' the South to vote for himself as 
the next President. From tlie year before the election of VanBuren to 1847, he 
made it his great aim to force the slavery issue on the North. He spoke in favor 
of slavery many times, affirming it to be a positive political and social good, and, 
knowing- that it could only be gained by State sovereignty, he fought for that 
measure with all his might and power. 

His desire to become President was greater than ever now. He was far ahead 
of his rival, Van Buren, in popular favor, but President Jackson was more popu- 
lar than either, and as he favored Van Buren, Calhoun was not even nominated. 



94 One Hundred Fanioiis Anier/cdns. 

He liacl done everytliin^ii- in his power to get the noniiiiation, and no\\- tui-ned bit- 
terly ag-ainst General Jackson and the Unionists, and bent all his energ-ies to forc- 
ing- the slavei'v question on the North as fast as possible. While Webster and 
Clay Avere laboring to put off tlie day of sti'ife, Calhoun was doing- his utmost to 
bring it on. He was already back in the Senate, but left it for a. short time to take 
the officii of Secretary of State in Tyler's Cabinet, just long enough to secure the 
annexation of Texas, after- which he returned to the Senate. The next year he made 
a strong speech against the Mexican War, and also ag-ainst the plan of David Wil- 
mot, called the Wilmot Proviso. This was a resolution to buy the territory wanted 
from ^lexico, provided that slavery should not be allowed in it ; it was supported 
by Webster in his last speech before the Senate, but was strong-ly opposed by the 
slavery- party. They were not in favor of the Avar for about the same reasons, for 
the\- kiKnv that the Northern party Avould fight against slaA'ery in the new terri- 
tory, if itAvei-eac((uired, and that instead of extending slavery in the new lauds, the 
Southerners Avould, if they favored the Avai-, be only defeating- their oavu g-reat ob- 
ject and g-iving- more cause to the North. But the war Avent on, and the territory 
was gaiued Avithout paying the two million dollai-s; the Oregon bill passed, shut- 
ting out slavery from that section, and, soon after, California, Avith an anti-slavery 
Constitution, was admitted to the Union. Meanwhile the feeling- grew, till politi- 
cal pai-li(^s, religion, and almost e\'erything in the country Avas split into slavery 
and auti-slaAery divisions. 

There is scarcely anything knoAvn of the home-life and the priA^ate character of 
Mr. Calhoun. In histoi-y he is an eminent figure, as the leading Southern Represen- 
tative of his time, as Secretary of War, Vice-President, and the g-reat " uullifier ; " 
but, among his family and friends, there is little told, except that he was a 
just and kind master to his slaves, a cultiA'ated, honest, and pure-minded 
man. As a statesman, in the highest sense of the Avord, he stands in the fore- 
most ranks. 

His biographer says : '' The part that he played in the g-reat conflict, Avhen the 
senthnent and feeling of tAvo different ag-es came tog-ether at Mason and Dixon's line, 
is the only one that puts him into the very tir-st rank of the men Avho have acted 
on the political stage of the United States, thoug-h he has done enough else to 
secure lor his name a lasting place in the annals of his country." 

He had great power over a large portion of the peo])le in his day; his o|)inions hi- 
ll uencetl almost the whole of the South ; his party field him in the hig-hest esteem. 
He believed heartily that his vieAvs Avere rig^ht, and he carried them out Avith sin- 
cej-ity and ability. He had great foresight as a statesman, k-een judgment, and 
Avondei-ful caution in many things. Even the most eminent men of his time, Avho 
held views opposite to liis, praised his splendid talents and ability. 



Edivard Everett. 



95 



John C. Calhoun was horn in the Abbeville District, South Carolma, March 18 
1782. He died in Washington, D. C, March 31, 1850. 




Edward Everett. 



There was no man of this period who had the qualities of a scholar, an orator, 
and a statesman so successfully combined as Edward Everett. He graduated 



■op One Hiotdt-ed Famous Americans. 

from Harvard with tlic liii^hcst lionors in the class of 1811, which had a number 
of students who afterward became disting-uished men. 

When lie was t\vent.\'-one, he was pastor of the famous old Brattle Street Uni- 
tarian Church in Boston. Soon the eloquence, learning-, and logic of his preaching 
began to attract the attention of the most scholarly men of New England, and be- 
fore long he Avas ottered the position of Professor of Greek in Harvard College. 
He accepted the honorable post, but took four years to prepare himself for its 
duties. In 181 !», fresh from study and travel in Europe, he came back to America 
and took his place in the college. In his classes, his writings, and by a series of 
lu-illiant lectures upon Greek Literature and Ancient Art, he awoke a greater in- 
lerest in classical studies than had ever before been known in America, and which 
is even felt to this day. 

Beside fitting himself for his college duties while abroad, he gained a great 
deal of knowledge upon the history and princii^les of law, and of the political 
systems of Europe. This enabled him to take broad and profound Aiews on 
the politics of his own country, and he soon began to take an active interest in 
1 he great questions of the time. The first i)ublic speeches he mafle show^ed that 
he had both the knowledge and judgment in national affairs and the stirring 
eloquence in setting foj'th his opinions which make a statesman and orator of the 
tii'st rank. 

In 18i."3 he was sent to Congress, where he remained for ten years, taking an 
active part on the side of the National Rejjublicans and in support of John Quincy 
Adams upon most of the great questions of that very eventful time. During the 
whole period, he was upon the Committee on Foreign Relations, and part of the 
time its chairman. He rai-ely served upon a standing or select committee that he 
was not chosen to draw up the i-eport, for few people, if any, have ever presented 
to Congress such perfect papers as his. They are looked upon as models even 
now. His writings upon public affairs, in letters, reports, and magazine essays, 
are among tht; hest of theii- kind in the world, and ai-e still read a great deal in 
Europe as well as in America. His speeches and addi^esses, which are ranked as 
some of the best ever delivered In- any American orator, are marked by a graceful 
and elegant style, and are treasuries of correct and valuable information. 

After ten years of national service at Washington Mr. Everett became Gov- 
«'i-nor of Massachusetts, and his term is one of the most noted for progress in the 
history of the State. The Board of Education w-is organized during that time, the 
normal schools— or schools for teaching and training teachers— were founded, aiid 
olhei- important public affairs were set a-going or carried successfully on. He 
lost the re-election by only one vote, and was not in any public office again until 
afl.T r^cn.-ral Harrison ])ecame Pi-esident, and then, chieflv bv the influence of 



Henry Charles Carey. 97 

Webster, who was Secretary of State, Mr. Everett was appointed Minister at the 
Court of St. James, in London. 

This was in about the year 1841, when affairs were not in a very pleasant state 
between Eng-land and the United States, and any less able and judicious man than 
Mr. Everett might have ruffled ihstead of smoothed the troubles about the north- 
eastern boundary, and several other important matters then being- agitated. But 
he was as good a diplomat as he was scholar. Representative, and Governor, and 
performed his duties at Court so that he reflected distinguished honor upon the 
administration which he represented, and the highest credit upon himself. 

He was President of Harvard University for four years after he came back to 
this country, and in 1853 accepted President Fillmore's call to take the place of 
the Secretary of State, made vacant by the death of his great friend and fellow- 
worker, Daniel Webster. In a few months there was a new President, and having 
been already elected Senator, he left the Cabinet to represent Massachusetts in the 
Senate. Although in poor health, and forced to resign at last, he kept to his seat 
as long as possible, and took an active part in the exciting and important events 
that were thicklj^ crowded into the last few years before the war. 

It was his earnest hope that slavery might be put down without bloodshed; 
but when he saw that the conflict was sure to come, he gave all the energy and 
strength he possessed to supporting President Lincoln and the Federal Govern- 
ment. He was too old and his health was much too broken for him to undertake 
any action in the struggle, but he lived to see the victory of the Union side and 
the return of peace. 

It is chiefly due to Mr. Everett that Mount Vernon is owned by the Govern- 
ment. By lectures, writings, and steady labors in many ways, he succeeded in 
having the sum of almost a hundred thousand dollars raised, with which the home 
and the burial-place of Washington were purchased of the great Commander's 
nephew, so that they might belong forever to the American people. 

Edward Everett was born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, April 11, 1794. He 
died in Boston January 15, 1865. 

Among all our statesmen Henry Charles Carey ranks first as a great 
political economist. This is the name given to the science of making and 
managing laws for the welfare of the trade and industries of the Government, es- 
pecially as they are influenced b^^ the laws regarding foreign goods imported 
into the country and sold in the same markets with home products. 

Mr. Carey was the son of an Irish gentleman, who, at the beginning of this 
€entury, had the best book business in America. By the time he was nine years 
old he had already learned from his father " a love of books and a keen, practical 



98 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

outlook upon life," for Matthew Carey was not only a dealer but a publisher and 
writer. He issued the old American Museum, known as the most impor- 
tant periodical that has ever been attt^npted in America, and was also the author 
of about sixty books or pamphlets. Man\- of these were on political economy, for 
old Mr. Carey was a firm believcM- in what is known as the Protective Policy. 
Having charged himself with the special care of his son's education, the boy 
not onty grew up to the book bnsiness, but also as a thinker upon national 
a Hairs, and that spirit which his fathei- infused in him grew and grew until 
Henry' Charles Carey stood before the country as the foremost of her political 
economists, and finally became leader of the doctrine of Protection in the Avorld. 

But before that time, beginning with when he was twelve years old, he was 
in the book business, first in charge of his father's store in Baltimore, and then 
from the time he was twenty-one till he was forty-five he was himself a publisher. 

In 1824 he started the system of Book Sales in place of the old Literary Fairs, 
at which the publishers used to meet once a year for a general interchange upon 
book matters. He published the works of Cooper and Washington Irving for 
many years, and was ahead of all other American houses in reprinting Sir Walter 
Scott's " Waverley Novels." His house was one of the first, if not the very first, 
to pay English authors for the privilege of reprinting their works in this country, 
and in prosperity and good reputation the firm had a foremost place among all 
American publishers. After awhile Mr. Carey himself became an author, and 
published a set of " Essays on the Rate of Wages." This, it has been said, struck 
the keynote of his whole work on political economy in the years that followed. By 
the logic of facts, he refuted the senseless arguments so long set forth by the Eng- 
lisli, who were the leaders of the "dismal science" of political econonn', and by 
looking into and setting fairly forth the facts he formed his theories and aroused 
a> world-wide interest in a branch of the art of government that is of greatest mo- 
ment to every nation. In the three years after these Essays appeared, he pub- 
lished the three volumes of the " Principles of Political Economy," which drew to 
itself a great deal of attention in Europe and was translated into Italian and 
Swedish. 

Mr. C!arey had now retired from business with a fortune, and devoted the 
most of his time to study and writing. Along with the other papers, he also 
brought out a treatise on " The Credit System in France, Great Britain, and the 
United States," which has been called a work that set forth a masterly theory of 
the banking syst<'ni ; it certainly atti-acted a great deal of attention and exert^ed 
a strong influence upon law-making. This came out about the time of the great 
money troubles in this country, when people, public institutions, the State banks, 
and the nation itself suddenly found themselves covered with dtibts and Avithout 



Henry Charles Carey. 



99 



money to meet them — a terrible state of affairs that made an epoch in our coun- 
try's history and is forever Unked with the time when Martin Van Buren sat in 
the President's chair. 

Perhaps no man in America watched the nation's affairs of money and trade — 
that is, the pohtical economy of the land — so closely as did Henry C. Carey. Sud- 
denly the idea came to liim, as with a flash of lig-htniii<j;-, that the whole sj^stem of 




Henry Charles Carey. 

Ricardo and Malthus, upon which about every government was managed, was 
an error, and that with it must fall the s^^stem of British free trade. He had 
felt that there was some error in this before, although he had believed that trade 
between foreign countries should be free, which was exactly the opposite of his 
father's views. He was lying in bed, but as he said himself, he "jumped out of 
bed, dressed, and was a Protectionist from that hour. ' ' 

He then became the greatest advocate of protection in the world, and was so 
acknowledged in all countries. The protective system is to have a tariff, or tax 



l^X) One Hundred Famous Americans. 

upon foreig-n goods large enough to protect home manufactures, and it holds that 
the real interests of classes are to help, and not to work against one another. 
'- He followed up his convictions with all the earnestness and industry of his 
ardent nature, doing an iinuKmse amount of almost continuous work in news- 
'|)apers, magazines, pamplilets. and books from this time forward to the end of his 
life," a period of more than tliirty years. 

His new doctrines have now almost completely taken the place of the old ideas, 
especially in Germany, where his books have been most widely studied. His book, 
" The Past, Present, and Future," opened a new era for political economy in 1848, 
and presented the world with ncAv ideas on the progress of agriculture, wages, and 
society, and contradicted the opinions of Malthus and Ricardo, the Englishmen, 
who had been looked upon as the only people who could really know anythmg 
al)out this deep and mysterious subject of political economy. 

But it was not until ten years after this that Mr. Carey's greatest work, "The 
Principles of Social Science," began to come before the world. This, too, made a 
great impression. It shows tliat the great need of human beings is to be with 
others, and sets forth the necessity of different industries to keep life going among 
them. 

Many of his works, which make up thirteen volumes of books and manj^ thou- 
sand pages of pamphlets and newspaper and magazine articles, have been trans- 
lated into the important languages of the Old World, and upon the principles they 
set forth are fovmded the views and works of \ii2a\j of the leading political econo- 
mists of Europe and this country. 

When the Crimean War broke out in 1854, as a constant writer for the 
Tribune, he not only placed that paper, but through it brought nearl3^ all other 
hnuling newspapers in the North, to the side of Russia against England, whose 
policy he thoroughly hated (for good reasons) ; and this siding with Russia in 1854 
resulted in Russia's sidmg with the United States Government — or the Union 
side — in the War of the Rebellion. 

He helped to organize the Republican partj^ in 1856, and during the war he 
was often in conference with President Lincoln and his Secretary of the Treasury, 
Salmon P. Chase. 

Many other national interests received his cordial attention and helping hand, 
and the influence which he exerted was the means of carrying or defeating several 
nieasun.'s in law-making to the benefit of our nation. His private life was as noble 
and good as that in public. In all conditions he was one who loved his fellow-men. 
He had a tall, heavy, and imposing figure, and a genial, beautiful face, that 
looked remarkably like the well-known portrait of his illustrious German acquain- 
tance, Alexander von Humboldt, his eyes being brown, while Humboldt's were blue. 



Amasa Walker. 101 

In Philadelphia, where he lived most of the time, his interest, and aid both in 
person and money went out to all that makes men happier and better ; societies, 
clubs, the drama, opera, and literary associations — all things started for worthy 
purposes had in him their fi-iend and helper, 

Henry Charles Carey was born December 15, 1193, and died in Philadelphia, 
the city of his birth, October 13, 1879. 

Among- all other political economists in this country there have been none 
equal to Mr. Care^', either among- Protectionists or Free Tradei's. The most emi- 
nent of the Protectionists, useful and able as they are, are for the most part but 
followers of the principles he thoug-ht out and laid down, while the representatives 
of the other side have mostly been supporters of the English principles of trade. 
These were originated by Thomas R. Malthus and David Ricardo — both great 
and profound men — and have been most ably supported by John Stuart Mill, of 
England, and Frederic Bastiat, of France. In this country they have been taken 
up and approved by some of our most thoug-htful literary people, and have been 
broug'ht into politics by statesmen of the hig-hest standing. John C. Calhoun, one 
of the ablest men of his times, was an ardent Free Trader for the sake of the South, 
and many others have long- held that its principles were the right ones for the 
Government to adopt. Their g-eneral argument is that the people of a country 
will naturally produce the article on which they can make the most money. So, 
they say, if a government levies taxes to force manufactures which the people do 
not take up naturally, it makes part of them spend their time in ix kind of employ- 
ment that does not pay as well as others that they could have if trade were free ; 
and, they say, that while this may be a good thing for employers and those who 
own the manufactories, it is ag-ainst the interests of the working-men, or larg-est class 
of people, of the country. Therefore Free Traders are in favor of no more tariff 
on imported g-oods than the Grovernment needs for a revenue. Their principle is, 
no duties for protection, and the lowest possible rates for what incoixie tax — or 
revenue tariff — is necessary. The arguments in favor of this are broad and many, 
and are advocated for various reasons by men whose interests often are widely 
different ; and while no other man has shown genius for these matters equal to 
that of Henry Carey, his is not the only name famous among- American political 
economists. 

We have had a few writei-s on free trade whose works rank not far below those 
of the celebrated Eng-lish and French authors. Of these three of the most noted 
bear the name of Walker. The first and probably the greatest among- them was 
Amasa Walker. He w\as about the same age as Mr. Care3' and lived during- 
the same exciting- times. But, unlike the famous Protectionist, a larg-e pai't of 



10-2 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Mr. Walker's life was spent in public offices. With a common-school education 
and a beginning- in the world as a Boston merchant, he only got into public life 
gradually, at first as an anti-slavery worker and a delegate to the great peace 
conventions held in Europe. Meanwhile he gave a great deal of study to matters 
of trade and finance. After a time he became known as one of the ablest 
t junkers upon that sul)ject in the country, and was given the degree of Doctoi- of 
,Laws. For seven yeai-s he was Professoi- of Political Economy in Oberlin College, 
Ohio, and his book, the "Science of Wealth : A Manual of Political Economy," 
has always been considered a standard woik upon American Free Trade. 

When Dr. Walker was about fifty years old, he began to take quite an impor- 
tant place in the State politics of Massachusetts, and in the coin-se of three or four 
years was chosen as Secretary of State in the Cabinet of Millard Fillmore. He 
Avas then a member of the old Whig party, and of course resigned when Franklin 
Pierce, the Democrat, was elected President. After that he served only twice 
more in Government office, once in the Constitutional Convention of 1853, and later, 
during the Civil War, as a Representative from Massachusetts in the Thirty- 
seventh Congress. At this thne he was also a lecturer at Amherst College, 
where he taught the Aoung men — and influenced a large poi'tion of the country — 
in the principles and arguments of what to him was the only true method of gov- 
ern nienl in regard to ti-ade and mahufactures, and in all the other great questions 
of his deej) and difficult science. 

Dr. Walker's books wei-e not many. "The Nature and Uses of Money and 
Mixed Currency" is an important work on finance; but beside that and the 
•'•'Scir'nce of Wealth" liis literary work was chiefly in the volumes recording the 
doings of the Massachusetts agricultural societies. 

Amasa Walker was boi-n at W^oodstock, Connecticut, May 4, 1799. He died 
in Noi-th P>rookfiold, Massacluisetls, October 29, 187-"). 

Of nearly the same age as the celebrated Amherst Professor of Political Econ- 
omy was Robert James Walker. He was a Pennsylvanian, a graduate of the 
University of that State, afid a lawyer. When twenty-fiA-e years old he moved 
away out to Natchez. Mississippi, where he soon gained a good practice and 
•stepped forward into public Ute. 

He went to Waslnngton to sit in the Senate in the year 1835, and was marked 
at once as a zeah)us Democrat and supporter of Free Trade. He did a great deal 
toward tlie success of the p.U'ty that was then trying to annex Texas to the United 
States. During the same month in which this was accomplished Mr. Polk became 
Pi-esident and Mr. Walker was called to liis Cabinet as Secretary of the Treasury. 
Thi-oughoiit tliat stormy, warring, and eventful administration he was an active 



Francis Amasa Walker. 103 

and useful man. It was then that his views on Free Trade attracted the most 
attention and exerted the widest intluence. The next President, Zachary Taylor, 
was a Whig-, and the ardent Democratic Mississippian went back to private life the 
very month* that the inauguration took place. Eig-ht or ten j^ears later, President 
Buchanan made him Governor of Kansas, but he did not keep the office for quite 
a year, because the policy of the I^ational Government did not seem to him rig-ht. 
He was a stanch anti-slavery man, and his reason for resigning- was because he 
felt "unwilling to aid in forcing slavery on Kansas by fraud and forgery "—-a 
reason that tells a g-ood deal for so few words, both about himself and about some of 
the affairs of our country during- James Buchanan's administration. Althoug-h 
a Democrat, he was a loyal Unionist — such men were called War Democrats — 
and going to Europe, as a financial agent, he did a g-reat deal of service to the 
United States by inaking large sales of our Government bonds. After that time 
he was not again in public life. 

Robert J. Walker was born at Northumberland, Pennsylvania, July 19, 1801. 
He died in Washington, D. C, November 11, 1869. 

The year befoi-e Dr. Walker began to lecture at Amherst, there graduated 
from the college a namesake of his, Francis Amasa Walker, who also be- 
came a noted Free Trader, and is now probably the most eminent of all living 
American political economists. Young- Mr. Walker — who was then twenty years 
old — left his Alma Mater onl^^ a short time before the outbreak of the Rebellion. 
As soon as the war-cloud burst, he entered the Union Armj^, and by gallant ser- 
vice he came out at its close a brigadier-general. In the Bureau of Statistics, as 
Superintendent of the Census, and as Indian Commissioner the years of his life 
until he was past thirty were taken up in active work for the Government. 

Meanwhile he had carried on a good deal of study, especially in the science of 
government, and in 187:3 he became the Professor of Political Economy and 
History at Yale College, where he gained the reputation of being- one of the ablest 
American scholars of that science, and perhaps the most influential of all living 
advocates of free trade. Five years ago he became President of the Massachusetts 
School of Technolog}' in Boston. 

His writings have been few, but of greatest importance in their way. Those 
which probably have caused him the greatest amount of painstaking- labor are the 
Census reports of 1870 and 1880, but that which has brought him the most fame 
is the "Wages Question" and another comprehensive work on "Money." He 
has also written a book on the "Indian Question," and has made a " Statistical 
Atlas of the United States." 



104 One Hiuidred Famous Americans. 

Another author of hig-h authority on free trade is Arthur Ijatham Perry, 

a New Hanipshii'e man. He is about ten years older than Pi'olessor Walker, and, 
after having- passed some years in newspaper work and in the ministry, he is now 
Professor of Political Economy at Williams College, Williamstown,' Massachu- 
setts, where he was a student and a graduate about thirty-five years ago. 
Mr. Perry was born in Lyme, New Hampshire, February 27, 1830. 

The stalesnieii wlio had been most active in the affairs that led up to the Civil 
War were forced In' age and death to pass the reins of g-overument into ncAV hands 
at the oiHMiing of the conflict. For the most i^art, those wlio took their places 
were young men, Avithout experience and untried in tlise difficulties and cai-es of 
stJite, but they wei'e none the less statesmen of power and wisdom. At the call of 
duty patriotism, self-sacrifice, and ambition rose within them at a single bound 
and placed them before the people, ready for immediate action. 

Foremost in their ranks was AT)raliaiu Lincoln. " He was a man," says 
Emerson, " who grew according to his need ; his mind mastered the problem of 
the day; and as the problem g-rew, so did his comprehension of it. ... If 
ever a man was fairly tested, by n^sistance, by slander, and by ridicule, he was. 
But in four years of battle days, his endurance, his resources, his g-enerosity and 
forgiveness were constantly being- tried and were never found wanting-. There, hj 
his courage, his justice, his even temper, his fertile counsel, his humanity, he stood 
a heroic figure in tlie center of a heroic epoch. He is the true history of the Amer- 
ican people in his time ; the pulse of twenty million people throbbed in his heart, 
and the thoughts of their minds were uttered by his tongue." 

He was the gi-eatest, the grandest man in the whole land, j^et he l)elong-ed to 
the middle class of people, and had had as humble a beg-inning- as the poorest of his 
countrymen. He was a thorough Amei'ican, born in a Kentucky log--cabin, an 
emigrant to the West— first to Tennessee, and then to Indiana— in his boyhood, a 
hai-d-working lad, and a self-made man. His family was very poor, but they were 
all good people, and Mrs. Lincoln, "little Abe's " mother, was an earnest, noble 
woman. She encouraged Ihm to read and to study all he could. 

But the chances for getting an education w^ere very small in that Western 
wilderness. All the schooling Abraham ever had was in less than one year ; but 
he learned t« read and write, and that was enoug-h to start him. He practiced 
writ lug on t lie gi-ouud with a stick or by scratching Tipon the ])ark of trees. When 
it hccanic known among the neighbors that Mr. Lincoln's boy could write, he was 
()ft<Mi called upon to send letters to their far-off friends. He was always willing to 
l)c their penman, foi- it gave him chances to improve his handwriting and helped 
him to learn to express his thoughts well. He was also very fond of reading-.. 



Abraham, Lincoln. 



105- 



His books were the Bible, ^sop's Fables, Pilgrim's Progress, Weem's Life of 
Wasliington, and the Life of Heniy Clay. He not only read these again and ag-ain, 
but committed most of them to memory, for books were scarce in those days, es- 
pecially in the West. 

Mrs. Lincoln's frail body could not bear the rough frontier life, and when Abe 
was ten years old she died ; but he was not too young to remember her. Her 
brave heart, her goodness and sacred teachings were nev" er forg-otten ; they in- 




Abraham Lincoln. 



fluenced his whole character. In a couple of years there was another Mrs. Lin- 
coln, also a kind and noblewoman, who helped and encouraged her husband's am- 
bitious little son in all that was good. 

While the boy was fond of study and of reading all the books he could find, he 
was not a shirk on the farm ; and very soon he begun to be hired out hy the day. 
In some way he had caug-ht a few g-limpses of a greater, broader life than this hard- 
working* one in an Indiana clearing", which only gave them a cabin to live in, and 
sometimes not enough to eat. He long-ed to know more of this new world, and 



lOG One Hundred Famous Americans. 

after he was eig-hteen lie had a couple of chances to go down the river with prod- 
uce. Then he saw all he could, did his errands w^ell, and came promptly hack, for 
Abe Lincoln never thoug-ht of running away from his father and mother and his 
hi'others and sisters because he beli(>ved himself made for somethhig better than 
the hard life on the farm. But when he was twenty-one, the family made another 
move — this time to Illinois. After he had done his share, and a pretty larg-e share, 
too, in getting the new cabin built and the farm fenc(Kl in and the corn planted, he 
told his lather that as he had grown to be a man, and they were all well started 
again now. he thought he would set out to see what he could do for himself; and 
Mr. Lincoln agreed that it was right and fair that he should. 

He went to a more thickl,>'-settled pai't of the State, and whatever he found to 
do that was square and honest he did, and in the best way possible. He now 
began to study English g-rammar, and spent all his extra time in g-aining- knowl- 
edge. The peo])le that he met respected him for his perfect honor ; they loved 
him for his kindness, good temper, and Avit ; and the many men of that rough 
country who thought strength and muscle made manliness, looked upon " Honest 
Abe " as their king. 

Mr. Lincoln's first office under the Government was the little New Salem post- 
ofhce, whicli he kept in Ms hat, so that when people found him they found the post- 
master on duty. His second public office was in the Illinois Leg'islature, which he 
entei-ed when twenty-five years old. He was re-elected three times, and for many 
years was the leading member of the Whig- party in that State. 

Meanwhile he had settled to live m Spring-field, where he had become well 
known as a rising young survexor and smart lawyer. He married a lady from 
L«'xingt()ii, Kentucky, and soon built up an excellent law business, keeping- active 
and full of interest in the State politics at the same time. In 1846 he was sent to 
Congress by a very spirited election, being the only Whig out of the whole of Illi- 
nois' seven representatives, who went to Washington in the midst of the bitter 
conte-st about slavery, when Clay, Webster, and Calhoun were the leading- states- 
men of the nation. Lincoln, who had long been an admirer of Henry Clay, was 
always in inxov of the Federal Government, no slavery, and peaceful settlements. 
When tlie ^lissoui'i Compromise had to be r-epealed by the passage of the Nebraska 
P>ill, iir ls:)4. Lincoln took the deepest inter-est in the incr-eased ardor of the times. 
He was nominated by the Illinois Republicans for the Senate against Judg-e Doug- 
las, who was well knowir to be the ablest politician and the best debater among 
the Western Deniocr-ats. Challenging his opponent to a set of public discussions 
upon tht; views and policy of their parties, Lincolir fairly outshone the Judg-e in 
talents, although he lost the election, which was made by the Legislature. He 
sliowed in these debates so mucli depth of judgment and r-eal political ability 



Abraham Lincoln. 107 

that he was deemed the best candidate for the Republican party in the next Pres- 
idential election. The Republicans and all other parties knew that this contest 
was to be the most important the country ever had, for it would decide whether 
slavery should be allowed to grow with the Republic, or should be from that 
time forth confined to the limits then upon it. It was the sharpest, bitterest 
campaig-n ever held in this country, and when it was finally'- decided, there was 
one large I'ejoicing- party, the Republicans ; one bitterly disai:)pointed party, the 
Southern Democrats ; and two smaller sulky parties, the Northern Democrats and 
the American party, who wanted the slavery question dropped out of politics. 

For many years the Southern leaders had been getting ready to separate their 
States, or secede, from the Union ; and when it was announced that Lincoln had 
been elected President by the Republicans, and that their candidate, John C. 
Breckini'idge. was defeated, they knew that their time had come ; for the declared 
principles of the Republican party were that it was the right and duty of Congress 
to forbid slavery in the Territories ; and Lincoln was a man to carry these princi- 
ples out. He was opposed to extending slavery into the Territories, but he was 
never a strong Abolitionist; yet when the nation came to the plain question of 
slavery or no slavery, or rather Union or no Union, he did not stop a moment over 
the answer — Union and no slavery. 

Seven States had done all in their power to break away fi-om the Union while 
Buchanan was still President, but the Southerners and their friends now centered 
their displeasure on Mr. Lincoln. Several attempts were made to take his life, 
Avhile he was on the way froin Springfield to Washington ; but all of them were 
bi'oken up. and in spite of many threats that he should never become President, he 
was duly inaugurated on the 4th of March, 1861. His inaugural address was 
firm, mild, and liberal, but it was for the welfare of the wiiole nation. He said 
that no State or combination of States had a right to secede from the Govern- 
ment, and this the Southerners caught up as a declaration of Avar. They began at 
once to make preparations for a conflict ; and in a little over a month the first shot 
against the Union was fired upon Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, which 
was commanded b}^ United States troops. So, from the very first, Lincoln was 
plunged into the deepest cares and anxieties, while he w^as 3^et a stranger to 
the public and the public to him, and with a Cabinet new to himself and the na- 
tion. It is a long, long chapter, the greatest in our history, that records the man- 
agement of the Government during this war ; there was everything to do, nothing 
done ; but the wisdom, the judgment, and the unselfish devotion of the new Pres- 
ident and his chief officers never failed. We owe to him, more than to any one 
else, that the North and South are still the United States, and that our countiy is 
a peaceful and prosperous one, where all men have the same rights. The people 



108 One Hundred Famous Ainericans. 

o-]:\dl y cliosf liiin for another term, for there Avas not his equal, or the near approach 
to it, in all the land. He lived to see the li^htin^- over, tlie good cause won, and 
peace restored ; but in the midst of the rejoicing, forty days after his re-election, 
he was shot and killed by Wilkes Booth, who thought by this act to serve the con- 
([uered \rAvt\ of the South, and to win praise aud fame for himself, in both of which 
he failed, 

Abraham Lincoln was born on the l'2th of February, 1809, in a portion of Har- 
din County, Kentucky, that is now a part of Larue County. He died in Wash- 
ington, D.'C, April 15, 18G5. 

Next to ^Ir. Lincoln, the most important, responsible, and influential person in 
this country during the Rebellion was Edwin M. Staiitoii, Secretary of War. 
After that of the President, his office was then tlie most serious in the nation, and 
it is believed that there was no one in the land who could have better fulfilled 
its duties. He was able to lay plans, org-anize troops, give orders to the officers, 
and see that all these directions and many more were properly carried out. He 
was a fearless, energ-etic, resolute, powerful, and patriotic citizen, and it is due to 
his judgment and wisdom and to his unceasing labors in the War Department, and 
as the Presid(Mit's heli">er and adviser, that some of the most critical periods in the 
conflict resulted in victory for the nation. He took his place in 1802, before people 
had forgotten his fearless and useful speech as Attorney- General under Buchanan, 
when he had denounced the plans of those who would break up the Union, and 
assei"ted the rights of the nation. 

The President had never seen him, and Mi-. Stanton had no idea of his appoint- 
ment until he received it, but Mr. Lincoln, a g-ood jiulge of men, soon came to love 
him and to trust his judgment. The President once said to an officer, "When 
you have Mr. Stanton's sanction in any matter, j^ou have mine, for, so g'reat is 
my confidence in his judgment and patriotism, that I never wish to take an im- 
portant step myself without first consulting him." 

When General McClellan would have left the Capital without enough forces to 
protect it against a sharp attack, and Secretary'- Stanton, in carrying out the 
President's orders, retained General McDowell's division from following the 
orders of the Commander-in-Chief, there was a great deal of bitter indignation 
against " the way the Secretary was using- poor McClellan;" but Mr. Stanton 
made no etlort to defend himself, and even his old personal friends felt that he 
was acting very strangely and unlike himself. One man who had been intimate 
with him fr-om boyhood wrote him about it, and to him Mr. Stanton explained the 
whole situation, but enjoined that the matter could not be made public, "for," 
he said, " General McClellan is at the head of our chief army, he must have every 



Edwin M. Stanton. 



109 



e„„Me„ce ana ^"PP-^^^ ^ 1^- ^r^tn^ "^i^^^^ 




Edwin M. Staxton. 



110 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

thro wine: his arms around the Secretary, he said: "Stanton, you have been a 
^•ood friend and a I'aithiul public servant, and it is not for you to say when you 
will no long-er be needed here." The President was shot soon after this, and the 
Seci-etiiry continued in his office, fidlillhig- its duties and carrying all its vast, 
troublous, and responsible cares, that none but he himself could even name. The 
Tenure of OlUce Bill was passed to prevent him and others from being removed on 
account of party principles, when it was to the welfare of the nation that they 
should remain. 

Stanton did not take part in the quarrel between Congress and Andrew Johnson, 
the nextr President after Lincoln ; but he suddenly became a fig-ure in the unpleas- 
ant atTair. The Tenure of Office Act was passed by Congress over the President's 
veto— tliat is, after he had expressed liis objection to its being- a law by refusing 
to sign it. Then, being ang-ry with Cong-ress, and believing- that it had no right 
to pass such an act, according- to the Constitution, he determined to disobey it. 
So he ordered Secretary Stanton — ag-ainst whom there was a strong feeling- in 
Johnson's party— to leave the War Department; and, when the Senate refused its 
consent, he paid no attention to it, but ordered a newly-appointed Secretary to 
take the place. Then Congress accused the President of disobeying- the laws, and 
being unfit for his office. A long- trial for what is called impeachment took place 
before the Senate. Mr. Stanton, meanwhile, kept his post until the 26th of May, 
1SG8, after it was decided that the President Avas not g-uilty of disobeying the 
laws. 

The next year he was appointed Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the 
United States, but he died in the same month that the appointment was made. 

His career before entering- President Lincoln's Cabinet had begun by practicing- 
law in liis native town of Steubenville, Ohio. At a little more than thirty years of 
age he was the leading lawyer of Pittsburg-, Pennsylvania. Gradually, as his 
ability came to be known, he was employed in the Supreme Court at Washington, 
and inoved to the capital to live. The year before the war broke out he was made 
the United States Attorney-General. He was a Democrat, Avith strong-, vigorous 
views after those of Andrew Jackson, but he was a thorough Unionist, and so 
belonged to what were called the War Democrats. 

He retired from the Attorney-Generalship after about a year, and the next 
year accepted the call to take charge of the War Department. So, his public life, 
like President Lincoln's, was a short one, but their names will always stand 
among those who hav(! i-endered the most important, if not the long-est, services tx) 
tlieir counti-y. 

Edwin M. Stanton was born in Steubenville, Ohio, December 19, 1814. He died 
in Washington, D. C, December 24, 1869. 



Salmon Portland Chase. 



m 



The financier of tlie Rebellion was Salmon Portland Chase. He became 
Secretary of tlie Treasur^^ tlie day tliat Abraliani Lincoln became President, and 
all through the Avar he managed the money matters of the nation with the great- 
est ability, energy, and courage. The times were gloomy and doubtful ; business 
and trade were all upset ; new industines were springing into importance and old 
ones were dying out ; changes were taking place that not only afifected money 
matters at home, but were altering our financial arrangements with other coun- 
tries, and "shook the civilized world like an eai'thquake." The nation was poor 




Salmon Portland Chase. 

and coin was scarce, yet there was the largest need of money the Government 
had ever known. A thousand miles of frontier were to be guarded, fleets were tO' 
be made, and large armies were to be formed, fitted out, and kept up ; for al- 
though the war had been a long time in coming, when it finally broke out the 
country was not prepared for it : the War Department was in poor condition ; 
the public credit was low, and the revenues of the Government were scarcely 
large enough to have supported it if the country had been in peace and prosperity. 
This was the gloomy state of affairs that Secretary Chase had to meet when 
he took his seat in Lincoln's Cabinet ; knowing that a costly conflict was before 



;[]^2 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

them, and that it would rest chiefly upon him whether tlie country's credit should 
he redeemed and her needs met throu^-h this crisis — which might last for 
many years— or whether the nation should become banki-upt, the armies fail for 
want of support, and the cause of Union and Liberty be lost to America forever. 
But he had the courage to meet his duty and the ability to fulfill it. He was 
now in the prime of life, and for ten years he had been an active worker in public 
affairs; he was sound, loyal, and undaunted, shrewd, cautious, and full of self- 
command. 

He first set to work to i-aise tlu; needed money by borrowing- or raising- 
loans from wealthy people and institutions in this country. But the expenses 
soon grew so heavy that there was not specie enough in the United States to 
meet them. Some foreign loans lent us great aid, but Mr. Chase felt that 
llu- bulk of the funds should be raised at home; so he formed a plan b^^ which 
paper money, instead of coin, should be the legal tender — that is, acknowledged 
1)\' the Government to be hnvful money, and good to pay all debts. This paper 
money was issued in bills called "greenbacks," because the backs of them were 
jii-inted with green uik. It was soon issued, and from the second year of the war 
until about twelve years after it was over, it was used bj^ the Government to pay 
its expenses. But banks were not allowed to get out this currency unless they de- 
liosited a little larger amount of bonds at Washington. Bonds are the certificates 
given for money received as loans ; so, by this plan, all the banks that wanted to 
issue paper currency had to take part in loaning money to the Government. A 
National banking system was also established to help along the sale of bonds, 
and m this way a large part of the expenses of the conflict were met, and Mr. 
Chase had the whole banking capital of the United States placed in a position 
where it uuist live or die with the country. It cairied our nation through the 
ti'i-rible struggle, kept us from being overcome with del)ts to toreign nations — if 
any would have trusted our poor credit enough to lend us the sums needed — and 
gradually' the time has come when coin is once more the national currency, bonds 
have been recalled, interests paid upon loans, and millions taken off of the debt to 
foreign powers. 

After the war, ^Ir. Chase resigned, and in the fall of the same year, upon the 
death of Roger B. Taney, President Lincoln appointed the tried and honored 
Secretai-y of his first administration as Chief Justice in his second. Mr. Chase 
had great ability and fame as a jurist. He had been a student under the honored 
scholar, "William Wirt, after graduating from Dartmouth College, and was ad- 
mitt<'<l to the Ohio l)ar when he was twenty-two years old, and began to practice 
in Cincinnati. 

( )ne (if liis lirst cases was in tlie cause of a poor black woman, claimed as a 



Salmon Portland Chase. 11;> 

fug-itive slave. Now, although Cincimiati was in a free State, it was only separated 
by the Ohio River from the slavery- territory, and most of the people were not in 
favor of abolition, because the largest interests of the city were connected with 
those of the slave States. It received most of its wealth and power from these 
human goods. The good societ^^ and best families into which Mr. Chase had made 
his way and been cordially received on account of his fine looks and manners and 
his energy, talent, and good scholarship, looked upon slavery antl despised the 
negro about the same as the people further South, althoug'h, of course, they had 
no slaves themselves. So it was an unpopular thing for him to take the part of 
this poor colored woman. Yet he did it, and so placed himself o^jenly on the side 
of the slaves. People said he had "ruined himself" as a lawyer. He lost his 
case, of course ; he expected that ; but he brought forth a defense that had never 
been heai'd of before, and which was afterward recognized by the United States 
slave law of 1850. It was that ''the phrase in the Constitution which demanded 
the giving up of fugitives to service on demand of masters, did not impose on the 
magistrates of the free States the responsibility of catching and returning slaves." 
Congress — he said — had no right to impose any such duties on State magistrates, 
or to use the resources of the State in any way for this purpose. 

Before long he had another slave case to defend, and in it he asserted, what 
Charles Sumner afterward affirmed in Congress, that when a master took his 
slaves into a free State he no longer had the right to hold them. This caused 
great excitement ; the decision went against him, for it was too much the 
custom for masters to go back and forth with their slaves from Kentucky into 
Cincinnati and other parts of the Ohio border for such a principle as that to be 
adopted. 

In 184(j came on his great case of the Kentuckian, John Van Zandt, who, con- 
vinced that slavery was wrong-, had freed his own slavey, and, settling on a farm 
near Cincinnati, gave • food and shelter to any runaways that came to him, for 
which he was at last sued by the slave-owners. In this William H. Seward was 
assciciated with Mr. Chase, and their noble pleas, which were as much in belialf 
of liberty for white people as for the blacks, had a great influence on public opinion. 
Mr. Chase made a very full argument before the United States Court, which was 
so able that the Judg-e did not make any effort to answer it, and Avithout even 
referring to it, decided over it and ag-ainst the cause for which it plead. 

This is the way in which the great lawyer began ; no practice at all at first, 
and then one decision after another going against him. Yet he did not lose faith 
in himself or the cause which he had now fairly taken up in law and in politics. 
He became one of the chief leaders of the Free-Soil party, which wa,s made up in 
1848 of Abolitionists and former Democrats and Whigs who believed in the Wilmot 



114 One Hundred luintoiis Aiiicricans. 

Proviso, when the Democrats and Wliigs spUt upon the question of slavery in 
the Territories. 

In the same year Mr. Chase was made Governor of Ohio, and two years later 
his State sent him to the United States Senate. It has been said that ^his pres- 
ence '' was liailed as a tower of streng-th to the hard-fig-hting- anti-slaver^^ party at 
Washington." They l)raced themselves to fight the Kansas and Nebraska battle, 
for they quickly saw that this bill was intended to " seize for slavery all the unoc- 
cupied land of the United States and turn the balance of power and numbers for- 
ever into the slaveholders' hands." 

The sLx years that lay between this time and the call to the Treasury were 
tilled with public work and cares, chiefly as Governor of Ohio, and as an important 
luenilier of the Republican party, which came very near nominating* him, instead 
of Lincoln, for President. 

Salmon P. Chase was born in Cornish, New Hampshire, Jaiuiaiy 13, 1808. 
He died in New York City May 7, 18T3. 

Probably no statesman of his time was more deeply" in earnest against the 
spread of slavery than William Henry Sewartl, President Lincoln's Secretary 
of State. He first took an open stand against it in about 1838, when he was Gov- 
ernor of New York. The Governor of Virginia claimed that New York State 
should give up three colored seamen who w^ere charged with having aided a Vir- 
g-inia slave to escape from his master. Governor Seward refused, saying- that it 
was not lawful for any State to call upon another to pmiish or give up to punish- 
ment any one who has done an act that was only criminal according to its own 
laws, when, according to justice and liumanity, it was a praiseworthy deed. 

Not long after this the Governor succeeded in having the New York Legisla- 
t lu-e take another step against slavery. This was to repeal thg law Avhich allowed 
a slaxeliolder traveling with his slaves to hold them for nine months in New York 
Stale. Governor Seward was the first Whig who had ever been elected to this 
oftice. and he made liis administration one of importance both to the State and to 
his paity. He favored building roads and all internal improvements, h(>lping 
along trade and all industries, reform in the law courts and chancery, and im- 
proving the public schools and other means of education. He had a great deal of 
iiifiuence and power over public opinion. 

He had become famous some years before as a leader against the Free Masons, 
and, l)eiiig \in-y strongl_\- ojjposed to that society, he did a great deal to keep up 
the excitement against it, wliich, centei-ing in New York, spread throughout the 
connl i\-. 

Fioni about this time, wlien Mr. Sewai'd was between tliirtv-five and fortv 



William Henry Seivard. 



115 



years old, until 1854, he was the senior member of what Horace Greeley called the 
lirm of Seward, Weed & Greeley. This broke down the "Albany Regency " in 
1839, and for fifteen years — until Mr. Greeley withdrew — controlled New York 
State politics. Thurlovv Weed and Horace G reeley were both powerful men, and, 
united with Seward, they led the most influential party in the State, enacted the 




William Henry Seward. 
laws, and forwarded the causes they favored, g-ave offices where they saw fit, and 
earned for New York the title of the " Empire State," by swaying the election of 
at least two Presidents of the nation. 

After two terms as Governor, he refused to take the chair again, and for 
about seven years gave most of his time to his profession. But he still took part 
in politics, speaking in favor of Henry Clay for President, opposing the annexation 
of Texas, and when the next election came round, doing all in his power for the 
election of President Tavlor. A few months after this was decided, Mr. Seward 



116 One Hundred Famous Amerirdhs. 

was sent by the New York Le.iiislature to the United St:i1es Senate, where he de- 
clared himself most openly ojjposed to the spread of slaver>-. He liad been at 
Washington abont a year when the debate about admitting- California into the 
Union was held ; he made a famous speech, in which he said : ''The Constitution 
devotes the national domain to the Union, to justice, to defense, to welfaiH', and to 
liberty. But there is a higher law than the Constitution, which regulates our 
authority over the domain, and devotes it to the same noble purposes." 

The speech was talked about and re])eated far and \vi(h', and Senator Stnvaid's 
"higher law" doctrine became one of tlie influences of the times, and a phrase in 
common use. 

In the same year he made another long and elo(|uent address against- the Com- 
promise Bill of 1850, speaking so Avarmly in favoi- of liberty and freedom that 
many bitter things were said against him by his opponents. 

He was one of the chief organizers of the Republican party, which was formed 
about the same time as the Native American or Know Nothing party, and took a 
firm stand against the spread of slavei-^-. He, too, was considered as a candidate 
for President in the election of 1861, and probably wordd have been nominated but 
for the opposition of Horace Greeley, who Avas in favor of Lincoln. 

Just before the close of Buchanan's term, Seward made a ver}' able speech in 
the Senate against disunion, and Avhen President Lincoln took his office, he saw in 
the great New York Senator a man of his own views, and offered him the first 
place in his Cabinet. As Secretary of State, Mr. Scwai-d performed the greatest 
work of his life, with wisdom and skill, patience and initiring- industry, guiding the 
diplomacy of the Federal Government successfully through all the dang-ers of the 
Civil War. 

One of the greatest acts in the record of his statesmanship was his manage- 
ment of what is called the Trent imbi'oglio, or quai-rel. The United States wai- 
vessel, the San Jacinto, stopped the English mail-steamer, the Trent, and took 
out of her two American passengers, who were Confedeiate Commissioners to 
Europe. This was doing just what we had declared that England had no rig-ht 
to do in 1812, and had made a war about. Now Great Britain was angry, and it 
seemed as if the tables would be turned on us. England sent troops and war- 
vessels to Canada and harshly demanded the Commissioners. Mr. Seward man- 
aged the matter with a great deal of tact, declaring- that a wrong- had been com- 
mitted and that the United States did not claim any right of search. The men 
were given up, and so the peace was kept. 

The two other most important acts of the great Secretary were his dignified 
and yet resolute action when the French invaded Mexico ; and his purchase of 
Alaska, the value of which we are but just beginning to find out now. 



William Henry Seward. 117 

When General Grant was elected President, Mr. Seward resigned his office, 
and nearly all the remainder of his life w^as spent in traveling- in the Old World. 
Of these journeys we have a full account in his own pleasant style — for which he 
was as famous in public s]>eeches as in literary work — in the volume of " William 
H. Seward's Travels Ai-ound the World," edited by his adopted daughter. His 
speeches and orations were published in five volumes, and he was also the author 
of a Life of John Quincy Adams, and a Life of De Witt Clinton. 

The marble monument above Mr. Seward's grave records the epitaph 

" He was Faithful." 

This tells the character-history of his life. One Avho knew him well, both in public 
office and in private acquaintance, has said that he never forsook a cause that he 
once took up. The most remarkable trait in his noble nature was the faithful 
and consistent way in which he held to principle. In a long political career, he 
was guided by his own ideal of the "Higher Law," which meant to him truth, 
justice, and love of man : and from this course no excitement, no desire for fame 
or posnion oi' any otlier influence coidd draw him. For many j^ears he was in 
the midst of the most stiri'ing events this nation has ever seen; great claims 
were upon him, bitter enemies were in opposition to him, and intense excitement 
surged about him on all sides. Through it all he was calm, watchful, and 
earnest, never forgetting that his duty to his country was above any personal 
feeling, and never even in zealous debate becoming abusive or unmanly. He 
was so thorough a gentleman, that even an insult did not unseat his dignity nor 
l)ring from him a retort of its own kind — though this was often violently provoked. 

As a private citizen, among his townsmen at Auburn, he was held in great 
respect and confidence. His place was always in the best society ; but his courtesy 
and interest were extended to people of every class. Merit, not position or w^ealth, 
won his friendship and sympathy. His aid and support were always ready to 
help along all plans for doing good, either to the unfortunate or the forsaken ; 
and if any man, woman, or child — black or white, high or low — was suffering 
from wrongs that he could make right, time, talents, and money were earnestly 
devoted to their service. 

William Henry Seward was boi-n in the t(.wn of Florida, New York, Ma.y 16, 
1801. He died at Auburn, New York, October 10, 1873. 



L A W Y 1] U S 



THERE have been many g-reat members of the American bar, who have also> 
taken np (Uities in other professions, Avhere the^^ have risen to greater fame 
than they g-ained in the practice of hiw. Many of our foremost statesmen, orators, 
and soldiers were also lawyers ; yet they rose to a hig-her rank out of the court 
than in it, and as men they belong- first of all to the calling- wherein they did their 
g-reatest work. For that reason many of our ablest lawyers are mentioned 
first of all among- our statesmen, for the study and the practice of some branches 
of the law are the best means of fitting- men for political life. A few, like Alex- 
ander Hamilton, Daniel Webster, and Robert Y. Hayne, were almost equally 
eminent in both the public service and the professional practice ; a few have be- 
come gi-and statesmen Avho were not particularly good lawj^ers ; very few have 
remained entirely out of public life ; but some have shone forth more eminent in 
the leg-al profession than in any other. 

Such a man was John Marsliiill. His name stands out so boldly on tlie 
pages of American liistors' as a gi-eat Chief Justice, that many people do not know 
that he was also a soldier, a law-makei-, an envoy, an historian, and a statesman, 
and that he filled these offices so well that his fame would rest securely in them if 
he had not served one other calling still more ably. 

He was born in a time of great chances in America, and became of age about 
two months after the Declaration of Independence was made. Even at that age, 
he was already a bold and spirited lieutenant, leading the volunteer troops of his 
own county, Fauquier, Virginia. Upon the first general sound to arms that 
r-ang tlirough the Colonies, he had offered himself to the army and been a Leaxler 
in forming a company, which was part of the first regiment of Minute-men raised 
in Virginia. Captain Marshall he became in 1777, and his record shows a list of 
lK»ld and gallant services in many campaigns. He led his command through the: 
battles of Iron Hill, Brandywine, Germantown, and Momnouth, and during alt 
the sufferings of tlic dreadful winter at Valley Forge he made life easier for alii 
about him hy his example of uncomplaining patience, good temper, and lively''. 



Joh n Ma rsh all. 



119 



story-telling" humors. He was with General Anthony Wayne at the assault on 
Stony Point, and afterward with the detachment to coAer the retreat of Major 
Lee after his surprise of the enemy's jwst at Powles's Hook on July 19th. Thus 




John Marshall. 

his name is connected with tvro of the most biilliant actions that took place in the 
camx)ai^ of 1779. 

Soon after that the term of his company's enlistment ended, and he was with- 
out a command for some time. While waiting for the General Assembly to give 
him another he used the time profitably by attending' some lectures on law and 



l-^O One Hii nJred Faitioiis Aiiiericdii.s. 

on pliilosoi^hy, f^-ivoii by llic faculty of U\v William and Mary Collog-e, at Williams- 
Itui'i;-. Vir^-iiiia. Ho luul never been to colleije, but had been taug-ht b^^ his father, 
who was, he said, ''an abler man than any of his sons.*' He had a fine mind 
and many of the natural i^ifts necessary to make a g-ood lawyer, especially a tal- 
ent t'oi- wise judgment, and justice. When disputes arose between the men of his 
regiment, he was always called upon to settle them, for the disputers would agree 
on one point — that Marshall Avould be a fair judge between them. 

in the summer after the lectures he was admitted to the bar, and was able to 
get a license to practice. But he still felt that he owed a duty to his country as a 
solther. and. returning to military life, he i-emained in the army until there were 
more officers than troops to command. Then he felt free to leave. 

After the sui'i'end(M' of Cornwallis in the autumn of 1781, law business began to 
icvive in Virginia, and Mr. Marshall soon found something to do. In a short 
time he became well known as a very promising young barrister, and after about 
a _\ear of real business he stood among- the leading members of the Virg-inia l)ar. 
His success was quick and sure, and Avas gained without the long- and patient 
toil usually the road to eminence. 

In the spring of 1782, he was called to his State Legislature, w'liere his extra- 
ordinary abilities soon made a sti'ong impression. He took an active part in the 
work of reorganizing the condition of the State after the war ; but this was mostl^^ 
\ery quiet, though useful Avork, for Mr. Marshall had a modest nature that 
shmmed making much of itself before the public. He came in contact with 
Patrick Henry, and mauN^ other great men of the day, winning- distinction among- 
I hem by the great qualities of his mind. But in appearance and manners he was 
far from commanding. His tall, thin figure Avas erect and manly, but often posed 
in very awkward attitudes. The swarthy face, with its low- forehead, black hair, 
and twinkling- eyes, was kindly, but not handsome; and the hard, dry voice spoke 
plain, forcible words, in which there was no bold oratory or polished g-race. 
S(»m«'times his talk was even a little embarrassed. In 1788 he made some power- 
ful speeches in favor of Virginia ado])ting- the Constitution. These w^ere not ora- 
tions, but talks of such great force of arg-ument and reason that few could listen 
and go away with a view that differed fr-om his. 

Next to James Madison, John Mai'shall did more than any one else to induce 
N'iiginia to adopt tlie Federal Constitution. He was a loyal member of the Fed- 
eral i)arty, which was founded by Washington, Franklin, and John Adams— with 
their hearts set upon the Union of the States— and which was led by Alexander 
Hamilton, of New York: and as that able huvyer and statesman of the North 
supported John Jay's treaty with Great Britain befort^ Congress, Marshall also 
made a gi-and speech in favoi- of il Ix'foiv ili." X'jigjnia Assemblv in 1794. The in- 



John MarslKiU. 121 

fluence of this spread far beyond the borders of the State. All America and 
Europe read it and were swayed \>j it, and when, in the next 3'ear, Mr. Mar- 
shall was sent with two others by the Government on a special errand to France, 
the people I'eceived the disting-nished statesman with honor and consideration. 

He now pi'oved that he had g-reat ability for public service. He was elected to 
several offices of trust, and declined many more than hje filled. But at the spe- 
cial request of Genei*al Washing-ton he ran for Congress and was elected in 179i». 
John Adams was then President, and one of Marshall's first and g-reatest speeches 
Avas defending' the President for g-iving uj) Thomas Nasii, also called Robbins, to 
the British, who claimed he had run away from justice. The speech not only car- 
lied its point with those who heai-d it or read it, but it settled forever the question 
whether such cases should be decided by the President or the courts. It has been 
said that it was an arg-ument which deserves to be ranked among" the most digni- 
fied displays of human intellect. 

After one year in Cong-ress, he became Secretary of State, and again served his 
country as a talented diplomat, especially in the famous letters of instruction to 
Rufus King-, the American Minister to England, during the annoyances of '' the 
peace that was like war."' 

In the first month of the following- year, on the 31st of January-, 1801, Mr. 
Marshall was appointed to the office wherein he made his g-reatest fame, and did 
his noblest service to the nation. For thirty years, he remained the wise, able, 
and greatly respected Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. 
He interpreted the Constitution on just and liberal principles, and performed the 
heavy duties of his position with profound wisdom based upon a g-reat natural 
sense of right, upon learning-, moral courage, and a high-minded virtue that won 
respect and confidence from all who knew him. 

His ladings and arg-uments were of the g-reatest value to the courts of the nation, 
for the machiiKMw of the new Government had not yet been adjusted to smooth- 
running order, and the Constitution was but little understood by the lawyers of 
the country. Mr. Marshall's understanding- of it was profound and just, and al- 
though he had never before been a judge of any court, his appointment was a 
g-reat national benefit, for which the wisdom of President John Adams will ever 
be remembered. Judge Story says, that if all his other judicial arguments were 
taken away from us, his clear judgments in expounding- the Constitutional law, 
would have been enough to make his name live forever. 

Some of the famous cases that came up before him and upon which the decision 
established the meaning- of hitherto unopened passages of the law, were in the tiial 
known as Peck against Fletcher, Avhen an Act of the State of Georg-ia was de- 
clared void ; and in the celebrated case of McCulloch against the State of Mai ylnad. 



1'22 OiK' Hundred Famous Americans. 

when the Court decided that Coii<^Tess has the power to charter a national bank 
with its branches in any of tlie States, and that such banks cannot be taxed by 
State authority. The trial of Aaron Burr for high treason was also made before 
liini, and in that there were many points where the Chief Justice stood against 
the leaders of the day, but time has proved that he was perfectly fair, and 
that his decisions were "a sound, even-handed administration of the law." The 
wisest of lawyei's reverenced him. but only those wlio understood his deep mind 
and his great judgments could fully appreciate him, and — as it has been said — the 
just praise which comes from their lips seems to others extravagant talk. Most 
of what he wrote was in connection with the law. but he also made an excellent 
'• Life of Greorge Washington,"' in live volumes. 

John Marshall was born in Germantown (now Midland), Virginia, September 
24, 1755. He died in Philadelphia, July G, 1835. 

The great diplomatic affairs between England and the United States that 
needed such careful attention after the Revolution will always be associated in his- 
tory with the name of AV^illiaiii Piiikiiey, one of the leading American law^yers 
of his day. 

He was about ten years old when the Revolution began and belonged to a 
stanch Royalist famil}^ of Maryland, but as he grew up to be a young man he be- 
came earnestly attached to the side of the patriots. He had very little education 
when he was a boy, but made up for it b\^ studying hard when he grew older, so 
that after a time he not only made himself equal in knowledge and culture to his 
companions, but took lirst rank among many young men who had had far better 
opportunities. 

He was admitted to the Maryland bar w^hen he was twenty-two j^ears old, and 
began to practice in Hartford County. His learning and brilliant talents soon 
i-aised him into note and brought him into public life. At first he was elected to 
the State Council and then to the Legislature. In 1 796, after one year among the 
law-makers, he was chosen by President Washington to act as one of the commis- 
sioners to England named in Jay's treaty. For eight years he stayed in London, 
faitlifully performing all the many and laborious duties of his office with such 
great ability and success that he had only been home a year — during which he 
was Attorney General of Maryland— when he was sent back. This time it was to 
treat about English sailors boai-ding our vessels and taking British-born seamen 
out of the American ser-vice, and other annoying practices which even the wise 
diplomacy of Mr. Pinkney could not break up nor heal over with a lasting satis- 
faction. Treaties could not estal)lish our rights, but several yeai-s after, the War 
of 1812 did. Still the affairs were settled for tlie time, and Mi-. Pinkney was re- 



WilliaDi Pinkney. X'l'.V 

quested to stay on in London as our regular Minister, which he did for about five 
3^ears. Upon his return, in 18U, he was elected to the Maryland Senate, but soon 
resigned to accept the office of Attorney-General of the United States, offered by 




Wn.LIAM PlXKXEY. 



President Madison, whose administration he ardentl\' supported. He commanded 
a troop of Maryland volunteers in the war, which broke out in the next 3^ear, and 
fought the British bravel^^ at Bladensburg-, where he was very badly wounded. 
After the war he again became a foreign Minister, and for three or four years. 



124 ^11'' Hintdred Fdiiioiis Americans. 

represented the United States at the Court of St. PetcH^sburg-. Upon his return, 
in 1819, he was at once sent to the United States Senate, and for the rest of his 
Ufe he labored intensely in that body and in the Supreme Court of the United 
State's, until suddenly his health broke down, and death followed the next 3'ear. 

WiUiani Pinkney was horn at Annapolis, Maryland, March 17, 1TG4. He 
died on the 25th of February, 1822. 

There was a feelui.u' in England that beg'an in the time of the Colonies — it has 
not yet entirely i^assed away — that nothing- very great could come out of Amei'- 
ica. Inventors, statesmen, orators, and soldiers were the first to be acknowl- 
edged ; but for fully half a. century after some of these were accepted, Britons 
declared that no sound, well-taught scholars and professional men could be found 
throughout the whole land. However, in 1852, the Edinburgh Review, which 
always had a kind and (nicouraging word for America, said that at last the Eng- 
lish lawyers had comi* to learn that their American brethren were not a set of 
unleai-ned men, as they supposed, for James Kent and Joseph Story could hold 
a place Avith any jurists of their age. 

Mr. Kent Avas a New York man, but he was educated at Yale College, and 
graduated with high h(5nor in the summer of the A^ear that Cornwallis surrendered 
at Yorktown. He had not begun with the expectation of being a lawyer, but he 
foiuid and rt'ad Blackstone's famous Commentaries on English Law soon after he 
enleretl college, and Ibis decided him to study for the bar. After graduating, he 
read law with the Attorney-General of New York Sta'e, and after four j'ears' 
lireparation, he became attorney in the New York Supreme Court, and began to 
piactice in the town of Poughkeepsie. Meanwhile he kept up his studies, follow- 
ing a regular plan which was of great value to him. The day was divided into 
six portions. The first was two hours from dawui until eight o'clock, which he 
used for studying Latin. The two hours after that were given to Greek, and the 
ivmaindei- of the time before dinner, to law. In the afternoons he read French and 
English writhigs and (lie evening he passed with Mrs. Kent— then a bride— their 
friends, and in other reci-eations. Studious and hard-working as he was, he had 
also a great love of people and enjoyed entertainments very much. 

By such careful study and by the ability he showed in his public and private 
husiness, he soon became well known as one of the most learned and successful 
lawyers of his time. Wishing also to take part in politics and public hfe. he 
moved to New Yoi-k in 1 :!»:;. and at the age of thirty-three took his place among 
the leading jurists in the coimtry. He was a Federalist, and the friend of Alex- 
ander Hamilton, who was only six years his senior. 

The public ollices which Mr. Kent held were confined to his own State, where 



Jdincs Kent. 



12:> 



he was Judijre of the Supreme Court, Master in Chancery, and Recorder of the 
City of New York. Witli Judi;e Kadclilfe Ju- revised tlie le^ial code of New York, 
in a way that was hi.ii'hly praised by the best jurists in the country ; and in 1804 




James Kknt. 

he was appointed Chief Justice of the State. All these duties he ful tilled with a 
profound wisdom and fine judgment, that raised him far above the men around 
him, and placed him upon a level with the greatest lawyers ui tlie woVld. 

Meanwhile Cohimbia College was proud to have liim for its Law Professor and 
tlien its C'hancelloi'. 



\26 0>i(-' Hundred Famous Americans. 

He beg-aii these lectures about as soon as he removed to New York, and con- 
tinued tlieiu Avilh some intei-missions as long- as he lived. For nine years he filled 
the high office of Chancellor with so much dignity and such perfect ability in everA- 
Avay that it was deeply regretted Avhen his sixtieth year closed, for, according to 
the" Constitution, no Chancellor could hold his position after he was sixty years old. 
When the time to retire came, he hnished his labors by hearing and deciding every 
case that had been brought befoi^e him. But he was not permitted to leave the 
college. He was still full of strength and power, and if Columbia could no longer 
have him for Chancellor, it would welcome him back to his old professorship. So 
he returned to lecturing and taught class after class of young men the deep and 
broad meanings of the law. 

He revised his lectures, added new ones, and finally published them in four 
volumes of "Commentaries on American Law," from which the best judges in 
Europe and this country united in pronouncing Mr. Kent one of the greatest law- 
writers of the age. '' They are," said a great judge, " eloquent and attractive in 
their style, and full and accurate in their learning." The fame of the great Chan- 
cellor rests chiefly upon these essays, and, like the written works of his younger 
brother- jurist, Joseph Story, they are a classic to the American bar, of inesti- 
mable \-alue to evei\y One who is under the ruling of the law, and a great and good 
gift to his profession. 

The private life of this honored man was as noble as his public A'irtues. He 
was industrious, temperate, fond of people, and a good friend to all who knew 
him. 

James Kent was born in what is now Putnam County, New York, July 31, 
1 763. He died in New York City, December 12, 1847. 

Few jm'ists have lived in any age or any country avIio have a higher rank in 
the annals of law and patriotism than Joseph Story. He was a New Englander 
hy bii-th, a graduate of Hai-vard College in the class with the great clerg^'man, 
William E. Channing, a student of law under Samuel Sewall and Judge Putnam — 
V)ot]i honored men in the Massachusetts bar — and became a practicing- laAvyer in 
Salem by the time he was twenty-two. He was something- of a poet then, too, but 
soon g;ive up verse-wi-iting and devoted himself most iudusti'iously to legal sci- 
ence, in which he became very wise and learned. After four years he entered 
piii)lic life as a Democrat member of the State Legislature, from which he went to 
Congress at Washington. His genius for debate was very mai-ked, and his name 
was soon 'known throughout the country as the great speaker against the Em- 
l)argo Act. This was an Act of Congress issued by President Jefferson in about 
the midille of his second tei-m. It forbade the departure of an^^ vessels from the 



Joseph Sior//. 127 

.United States for a foi-eii^n port, and was intended to put a stop to American 
commerce long- enough to injure England's trade, if possible, and in that way 
bring her to reason about taking the men out of our sea service because they were 




Joseph Story. 



once British subjects. It followed closely upon the stopping of tlie United States 
frigate Chesapeake by the British frigate Leopard, when our vessel was forced 
to give up four sailors or enter into very unequal fight, for it was in no trim for 
battle. But, an act that cut off our own conunorce was a very poor way of meet- 
ing the trouble, altliougli Jefferson and some of his party were strongly in favor of 



|og One Hamh'cd Famous Aniericaus. 

it, while many other leadini;- statcsiiieii were opposed. Story, th()u.irh a Democrat 
in Jetlersoivs party, was the leader oltlie opijosition, and did a liivat deal toward 
having it repealed two years later. 

In 1811, wluMi Madison had taken JelTerson's place as Pivsident, he called Mr. 
Story to become Chief Justice of the United States. He had left Congress in the 
ineaiitirae and was then Speaker in the Massachusetts House of Representatives. 

Tliis appointment was a peculiarly great honor to Mr. Story, for lie w^as then 
only thiity-two years old, and no one as young as that had ever been appointed 
to so high judicial position either in America or England. But he was in every 
way able to fill his eminent place, and remained in it for thirty-four years. 

.Meanwhile he had many other important positions and numei-ous duties calling 
into use his profound knowledge and ability in law. He helped to revise the Con- 
stitution of Massachusetts in 1S:3(), and after he had been Justice almost twent\- 
years he became Professor of La,w at Harvard College. The lectures w-hich lie 
delivered in Cambi'idge before the Harvard students covered a very wide range of 
knowledge, and were so able and intei'esting that Dane Hall— though but newdy 
l)uilt especially for the Law School— had to be enlarged to make room for all the 
students that gathered to hear them. They were upon the law of nature, the 
laws of nations, laws of the sea and of commerce, federal equity, and the con- 
stitutional law of the United States. Upon this he held similar doctrines to those 
of Chief Justice Marshall and the Federalists. He also published several books 
upon ditferent departments of law, wdiich were read on both sides of the Atlantic 
and were so able that their author became almost as famous in Europe as in 
America. 

A celebrated American jurist and w' liter says that the treatises w-ritten b\' 
Story are the most perfect of their kind that can be found in any language, and 
that for learning, industry, and talent he was the most extraordinary jurist of the 
age. An equally great Englishman said that Joseph Story's reputation and his 
authority as a commentator and expounder of law stands high wherever law is 
known or honored, and that as a man he was one of the most generous and single- 
hearted gentlemen that ever lived. 

His written works, which make up over sixty volumes, are more than have 
ever been left by any very eminent lawyer of any age or country : and their value 
is not onlj^ in the vast amount of information they contain, but in a clear and 
heautiful style of language which is eciual to that of some of the best prose writers 
of America. 

Joseph Story was born in Marbhihead, Massachusetts, September 18, 1 T7V». 
He died at Caml)ridge, Massachusetts, September 10. 184."). 



Rufus Choate. 129 

Rufus Clioate was a lawyer, an orator, and a statesman. But in his 
splendid ability as an advocate he was beyond any other man that has ever lived 
in New Eng-land. It is even said by many people that his equal has never been 
known in the whole countr}-. 

He was always remarkable. When a boy, he was quicker, more vigorous, and 
more elastic than any of his fellows, beside being- a wonderful reader. He read 
everything- in the village library, even its hea^'iest works, before he was ten years 
old ; and at sixteen he passed the examination for entering- Dartmouth College. 

Although younger than his companions he was a leader and a favorite among 
them. There was scai-cely a man in his class that had not a strong- regard for 
tall, handsome, generous young Choate of Ipswich ; and although he soon worked 
himself above the ablest and the most studious of them, they all admired his brill- 
iant power without env^dng him. He had the compan}^ of large-minded, noble 
men from the outset. 

From the Cambridge Law School he went into the ofRce of Judge Cummins, 
of Salem, and then into that of the scholarly Mr. Wirt, who was at that time 
Attorney-General of the United States at Washington. He saw John Marshall 
on the bench of the Chief Justice, and he heard the eloquent William Pinkney in 
the Senate and in the Court. 

When he reached the age of twenty-five he began his own law practice in 
Massachusetts, bemg first settled at Danvers, then at Salem, and then in Boston, 
where he soon gained the highest position as a powerful advocate. 

He had a tall and commanding figure, a large and finely shaped head, and, 
although his severe labors turned his once clear and handsome complexion to a 
peculiar yellowish color, his face still had uncommon power of expression. His 
varied and forcible gestures gave added w^eight to his exact arguments, brilliant 
sallies, and wonderfully persuasive words, which were poured out in a rich, musi- 
cal voice, that was so sympathetic that it could express almost every sort of 
feeling. 

It has been said that whether he addressed a jury of twelve men or a crowded 
audience, he seemed to bend their minds at his own will, for few men had a 
quicker insight into the character of the people he was talking to, or a better 
knowledge of the way to work upon the minds of others. His mind was large, 
' keen, and vigorous ; he thought straight at a subject, and saw it as it was with- 
out any set notions of his own in the way ; he had studied and read so much that 
it held vast stores of knowledge and culture upon many subjects, and it was so 
versatile that it could change from one thing to another with the greatest ease 
and tact. He could be cool and severe when necessary, or he could grow warm 
and vehement and sweep along the opinions of his audience with his own, by the 



130 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

reasonable, loijlcal force of his fire-tipped words. All the while he would be able to 
keep himself under |)erfect control and be sensitive to every little influence about 
liim, so that he could wield the power of his eloquence to suit the temper of his 
hearers. 

His public life as a statesman was short. The year after he beg-an to practice 
in Dan vers he was elected to the Massachusetts Legislature, and after that to the 
Senate. The energ'y and Avisdom he showed in the debates held the attention of 
the representatives, and spread the fame of Mr. Choate throug-hout the Bay State, 
so that he was soon sent to Cong-ress. He stayed in Washing-ton during- the 
whole of one term and part of a second, after which he settled in Boston, refusing- 
to be re-elected, because he wished to use his time in his profession. 

But after seven years, when Daniel Webster accepted the office of Secretary of 
State and took his seat at the head of President Harrison's Cabinet, Mr. Choate 
consented to take his place in the Senate. His quick and active mind took an in- 
terest in all that was then moving- on the stag-e of American politics, and most of 
the important questions that came before the Senators were helped or hindered in 
their prog-ress by the free and powerful speeches of the g-entlemau from Massachu- 
setts. 

He had a high antl unselfish patriotism. He deeplj^ loved the Union, and al- 
though, like many others, he felt that a great strain would soon be put upon our 
Federal Government, he had a firm faith in the future g-reatness of the nation, pro- 
vided that reason and law should rule over passion. He hoped that the differences 
between the opposing- parties might be overcome b}' argument and conciliations un- 
til the love of the Union should be so strong- that nothing- could come up between 
them that would tempt them to destroy' it. 

His addresses upon the McLeod case, the Fiscal Bank Bill, Oregon, the Tariff, 
and the Smitlisonian Institution will ever remain prominent in the history of the 
Senate's proceedings and fix the name of their author among- the g-reatest of our 
Senators, although he only served one term. 

Deep as liis interest was in the nation, and much as he g-ave his attention to the 
questions affecting the country, and especially the welfare of the Union, he never 
again accepted any public office, although he was often earnestly asked to do so. 
His law business was very large and his work was always thorough and far-reach- 
ing. He was looked up to witli respect, reverence, and love by the members of the 
profession, especially by those in Massachusetts, who knew him best; but also by 
people far and wide, who only knew him by reputation. 

Mr. Choate had such gracious and winning manners and such an aftectionate 
temper that almost evei-^vbody was drawn to him; while his large and sound learn- 
ing, his great imagination, the attractiveness of his speech, which was like mag- 



Charles Sumner. 131 

netism, and liis fertile and prodigious resources, made him, in business and in social 
life, the equal of the greatest people of his time. Much of his leisure was spent in 
reading". He delighted in all departments of literature. 

It is believed that if he had felt it right for him to keep hi public life, and if he 
had lived until the trouble between the North and South called forth the labors of 
ever^^ able patriot in the land, that his place as an orator and statesman w^oidd 
have been with the g-reatest — perhaps the greatest — in American history. 

Rufus Choate was born October 1, 1T99, in the Massachusetts town of Ipswich, 
which is now called Essex. He died at Halifax, Nova Scotia, Jidy 13, 1858. 

While Judg'e Storj^ was a teacher in the Harvard Law School, a young- man of 
twent}^ years, named Charles Sunnier, entered his class, as a g-raduate from 
the colleg'e. He was one of the finest young- fellows the Judge had ever met, a 
g'ood student, with a thoug-htful, kind nature, and not a sing-le bad habit. The 
good Judge admired him so much that they became intimate and life-long friends. 

Sumner's education had been gained chiefly by his own efforts at first. His 
father was a lawyer of much learning-, but he was not rich, and had wished to 
shape the studies of his oldest son in a practical way, so that he could begin earl \' to 
earn his living- and help the family. So Charles beg-an to study the common 
branches taug-ht in the Boston public school, and not Latin and Greek. But he 
saved some coppers and bought, second-hand, a Latin g-rammar and a "'liber 
primus'' for himself. He studied these books out of school, and surprised his 
father one day by reciting- to him from them. After that he was allowed to take 
the classical studies in his school. By the time he was eleven years old he entered 
the Latin School, where both the teachers and scholars admired him very much for 
his ability and his g-ood disposition. Many of the boys could g-et above him in 
class ; but none had so much g-eneral information as he. He was quick and wide- 
awake and very fond of reading-. History was his favorite study. He used to sit 
on a low seat, with maps spread out before him, reading- with deep and earnest at- 
tention. When he grew to be the Honorable Charles Sumner and was doing- a 
larg-e share in the making- of his country's history, he had much use for the stores 
his mind held of the lessons learned in earlier times ; which, if he had read in an 
easy, careless way, he might have forg-otten long- before. He used to write out, 
in his own words, what he read, and would often copy many extracts from books 
that pai^ticularly pleased him. In his desire for knowledge he not only read a 
great deal, but learned by talking- with older people, especially those who had 
traveled or were unusually intelligent. The only one of the boj^s' sports that he 
entered into was swimming-. 

During- the fifth and last year at the Latin School, Mr. Sumner became 



132 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

SluM'itl" of Sullolk County, Massachusetts. This made him able to send his son to 
coIle<^e instead of having- to put him to work. 

So, in September, when Charles Sumner was sixteen years old, he became a 
a member of the Fivshman class at Harvard College. He studied well and ex- 
celled in history and all the language branches, but his progress was slow in 
mathematics, and so he neglected them. Still he was a good student and wasted 
no time. It is said that he would never take any pleasures that he could not also 
make profitable. 

In the Law School he was the same man — studious, refined, and gentlemanly. 
He was so industrious and studied so well, even beyond the requirements of the 
course, that after a little practice in a Boston law office, he was admitted to the 
bar by the time he was twenty-three 3'ears old. Not satisfied with what he could 
learn at home, three years later he went to Europe. Judge Story gave him let- 
ters to some famous lawyers abroad, introducing him " as a young lawyer, g-iving 
promise of the most eminent distinction in his profession, with truh^ extraordinary 
attainments, literary and judicial; and a gentleman of the hig-hest purit^^ and 
l)ropriety of character." 

After spending three years of earnest study in Europe Mr. Sumner came back 
and took up his practice in Boston. He w^as then twenty-nine years old, and had 
name enough already to build up an excellent business. Before he went away he 
had been reporter of the United States Circuit Court, editor of the Jhnerican 
Jurist, and author of three volumes of law-books, called "Sumner's Reports." 
From time to time he had also taken the place of Judge Story and Professor 
Greenleaf in giving lectures to the Harvard students. Now he became one of the 
regular teachers in the Law School. 

This was a time of important events in public affairs. Martin Van Buren was 
President, and the country was becoming- bitterly divided on the subject of slavery. 
Webster was in the Senate, from which Hayne had retired but with Calhoun was 
keeping the flame of war or States' rights alive in South Carolina, Garrison and 
Wendell Phillips in New England, Gerrit Smith and the Tappan brothers in New 
York, and Salmon P. Chase in the West, were, with a host of others all through 
the Northern States, working hard to increase and strengthen the feeling ag-ainst 
slavery. It was almost impossible for an active, eai-nest man of public spirit not 
to take sides for or against the cause. Sumner's feeling- was with the Aboli- 
tionists, and before long he became well known in politics. On Fourth of July in 
1845, he made an oration in Boston on "The True Grandeur of Nations," which 
was not only listened to with great attention by hundreds of patriotic citizens of 
New England, but was published and read far and wide. Its able arguments for 
peace as true national welfare and its forcible and finished language even 



Charles Sumner. 



133 



attracted a great deal of attention in Europe. He also spoke at other times 
against the annexing- of Texas, because it would be spreading- slavery ; and made 
many orations and addresses upon different subjects. At first he was a Whig-, 
like Henry Clay and Webster, but he separated from that party when a new di- 




CHARLES SrjINER. 



vision, called the Free Soilers. led by Salmon P. Chase, formed itself from both the 
Whig-s and the Democrats who were not in favor of measures against slavery. 
In Massachusetts this party, uniting- with the Democrats in 1851, sent Mr. Suinner 
to the Senate to take the place of Daniel Webster, who had become Secretary of 
State in President Fillmore's Cabinet. He held this office with honor and ability 
for twenty years. During the first year he opposed the Fugitive Slave Bill, which 



134 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

made it lawful for United States officers to arrest runaway slaves found in the 
Northern States, and was one of the leading- debatei'S on the famous Kansas- 
Nebraska Bill. 

It was after his splendid speech of the 19th and 20th of May, in 1856, in favor 
of admitting Kansas into the Union and upon the growing- power of slavery, that 
he was beaten and almost killed by Preston S. Brooks. Brooks was an ardent 
Southerner, representing- South Carolina in Congress. He had read the speech, 
l)econie angry at some things in it, and deliberately planned to disgrace the Sena- 
tor. He entered the chamber after a session, and, finding- Mr. Sumner sitting alone 
and very busy at his desk, went up without any warning and struck him again and 
again upon tlie bare head with a heavy walking-stick. Mr. Sumner fell over, 
stunned, at the first blow, and Brooks kept up his angry strokes until two men 
rushed in from an ante-room and stopped him. The Senator was carried home al- 
most insensible and was in danger of dying for several days. Even after he grew 
■better, lie had to go abroad foi" treatment, and it was a number of years before he 
could go back to public woi-k. 

Near the close of Buchanan's term as President, he was able to return to Wash- 
ington, and take his old place as leader of the Senate ; before the new administra- 
tion began, he made a powerful speech that had a wide influence throughout the 
country against the laws and customs of slavery as they were in force throughout 
the South. It was published under the title of the " Barbarism of Slavery." 

Ml-. Sumner ^vorked to have Lincoln elected after Buchanan, and, although 
they did not agree on the slavery question, they were always warm friends. The 
President held Mr. Sumner as his favorite counselor, and so respected his judg- 
ment and wisdom that he was said to be like a Minister of State outside the Cabi- 
net. At the close of the war, the PresMent said there was no one with whom he 
had advised more throughout his administration. 

His work during the conflict and the last ten years of his public life was 
chiefly u])on affaii's between the Unit(>d States and foreign countries. Meanwhile 
he was also one of the most influential of all our statesmen in having the Southern 
States again established in the Union upon fair and impartial principles. He also 
secured the new department in the Government, called the Freedman's Bureau, 
wliich was to see after the rights and needs of the thousands of poor and ignorant 
negroes whom the war had freed from slavery. 

In April, 1869, he made a great speech upon what is known as the Alabama 
Claims— that is, the claims of the United States upon Great Britain for the dam- 
ages done by the Alabama and other Confederate privateers which the3^ allowed 
to escape to sea Avhen they were on friendly terms with the Union. 

Mr. Sumner and General Grant were opponents when the hero of the Civil War 



Charles O" Conor. 135 

came into politics at Washing-ton. The Senator was not in favor of Grant's idea 
about making- the republic of San Doming-o in Hayti a part of the United States ; 
he spoke very powerfully ag-ainst it in 1871, and carried a g-reat deal of the popu- 
lar feeling- with him. He worked against Grant's second term, and in favor of 
Horace Greeley instead. On the other hand, Grant removed Sumner's friend, 
John Lothrop Motle.y — the great historian— from the Court of St. James's in Lon- 
don, where he represented the United States, and at last forced the Senator him- 
self out of the chair of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, which he had held for 
ten years. 

Mr. Sumner was a man of g-reat force and will. There was scarcely another 
man in the Senate, during all the twenty years that he was there, who had so 
strong an influence upon the American people. No hope of favor or popularitj^ 
had any weight with him against what seemed right, but he often took up the 
unpopular side of a question and succeeded in laying- it before the people so that 
he created a favorable feeling- about it. This was very plainly the case in reg-ard 
to the Confederates, Mason and Slidell, who were taken off the British vessel dur- 
ing the war ; in regard to the act of freeing- the slaves which he urged Lincoln to 
make after the battle of Antietam, September IT, 1862 ; and upon the San Do- 
ming-o question. 

His last important act was to press his bill for Civil Rights, by which the law 
of justice was made the same for colored people as foi' white, in ever}' State in the 
Union. 

Mr. Sumner was never quite free from the effects of the terrible assault in the 
Senate, and before the close of President Grant's second term, the old trouble i-e- 
turned with some illness in the chest, from which he never got well. 

Charles Sumner was born in Boston, January G, 1811. He died in the city 
of Washington, March 11, 1874. 

Charles O'Conor, of New York, was one of the few great lawyers who was 
not a politician. He shrank from accepting all public offices, excepting- that of 
District Attorney, which he held for about a year under President Pierce. He 
even refused the nomination for President when it was ottered him. His name is 
upon the records of famous Americans only as a lawyer, where it stands among- 
Ihe greatest of the past or the present. 

From early boyhood he was a scholar, working- hard for his education, and be- 
g-inning to study law when he was sixteen years of ag-e. Four years later he was 
admitted to the New York bar, where, among- a number of illustrious men, he 
soon worked his way to the top. In a few years he was connected with some 
of the most famous cases in the courts. He was poor then, but was so upright 



136 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

and honest, and so firm and true to what he thought rig-ht, that he was as proud 
and manly as a khig-, although extremely modest. He took the greatest care in 
his woi'k and spared no pains in making- it perfect. After awhile he became rich 
and famous, and everywhere the nobility of his character was as well known as 
his vast knowledge and legal power. 

He was a very able business man. When he put his mind upon a piece of 
work, nothing could take him from it unless he thought best; but ^vhen he was 
through, he laid away his papers, freed his mind from cares, and took a good rest 
and '* play spell." Added to this faculty of doing one thing at a time, he had a 
very fine memory and kept a clear conscience. He never lacked the courage to 
face a very popular wrong with a despised right, and although he often had many 
a hard struggle, he usuall}' established the right in the end. He took the part of 
the slave Jack in a case that was of national interest in 1835, and was also counsel 
against the "ring " of New^ York City officials in 1873. 

Before many of the boys and girls that are now going to school w^ere born, there 
were a number of men in New York who held offices wiiich they used to their ow^n 
advantage instead of for the public good, and stole vast amounts of money from 
the public treasury. 

Finally, these " rin^ frauds," as they were called, w^ere discovered and brought 
into court. Mr. O'Conor took the side of the city against the officials. He left 
nothing- undone to expose them and helped a great deal to arouse the people 
against tliem, and to secure their punishment. 

As a man. Mi". O'Conor w^as so quiet about his deeds that most people were 
much surprised M'hen he died, a few years ago, to find out how generous and 
kind-hearted he had been. His long life of successful practice had yielded him a 
good fortune, much of Avhich he had shared with people less happy than himself. 
He had always taken cai'e to conceal his good deeds as much as possible, but 
many of them came out after his death, and his will directed that a great deal of 
his large estates should be given to churches and charities. 

Charles O'Conor was born January 21, 1804, in New York City. He died 
at Nantucket, Massachusetts, on the 12th of May, 1884. 

Probably most people would agree that the greatest living- lawyer in America 
is William Maxwell Evarts. His father, Jeremiah Evarts, was a prominent 
man and an able writer on the questions of his day; but now the son has become 
more famous than the father. William M. Evarts received his college edu- 
cation at Yale. After that, he studied law in the Harvard Law School, and 
when he was twenty-three years old, he began to practice in New Yoi'k City,. 
where he has lived and w^orked ever since. Ten years later he became Federal 



William Maxivell Evarts. 



137 



District Attorney, and from that time his place has been in the front i-ank of liis 
profession. 

When President Johnson was impeached, Mr. Evarts was his principal lawyer, 
and, soon after that great question was settled, he was appointed Attorney-Gen- 
eral of the United States. 

In about four years more he was ag-ain connected with a noted case. This was 
in the affair known as the Alabama Claims, which, though it came up duruig- 




Charles O'Conor. 

the Civil War, was not adjusted until toward the close of Grant's first term as 
President. It was rather a serious matter, large damages being claimed of Great 
Britain which that government did not feel inclined to pay. When, at last, a con- 
vention to make a settlement w^as agreed to, Mr. Evarts acted as the chief agent 
for the United States ; and his conduct in the whole matter was so full of wisdom 
and showed so much power as an attorney that our cause was won with credit to 
the republic and to himself. 



138 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

This occurred at Geneva, in Switzerland, in 1872, and a few years later he was 
one of the counsel in the Presidential Election dispute. The contest was so close 
for the President that should follow General Grant that almost the w^hole country 
was in doubt whether Mi*. Tilden or Mr. Haves had received the gi^eatest number 
of ballots. To decide the matter, a number of gentlemen formed what was called 
an Electoral Commission, and met to listen to the claims of both candidates. That 




William Maxwell Evarts. 

of ]\Ir. Hayes was arg-ued by Evarts, who outshone all the other counsel and 
secured a decision in favor of his client and the Republican party. 

Now — as for tlie last twenty years, or more — whenever a very important mat- 
ter, recpiiiing a lawyer of g-reat skill and learning-, is brought before the courts, 
the long, thin figure, and strong, intellectual, and refined face of Mr. Evarts is 
almost sui-e to be seen. As a speaker he is very powerful and impressive, and 
allhougli his opponents have often been the greatest advocates that could be se- 
cured, he has scarcely ever lost an important case. 

Mr. Evarts was born in Boston, Massachusetts, February C, 1818. 



EARLY MILITARY AND NAVAL COMMANDERS. 



^''T^HROUGHOUT all Europe, the talents and ^eat action of General 

-i~ George AVashington have won for him the truly sublime title of the 

liberator of America." wrote the French commander, Count D'Estaing, in the midst 




George "Wachtvgton. 

of the Revolutionary War. "He is," said Lord Broufrham, of En^rland. "'the 
greatest man of our own or any age :" and such praise from a son of Great Britain, 
Washington's vast enemy, and a French comnoiander, his co-worker, must have 
been most fair and hone.st. 



140 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

To all AmtM-icaiis, tlic life of Geoi-j^-e Washing-ton is the noblest, the grandest, 
and the most influential in all our liistory, and ranks beside the most illustrious 
characters that have ever lived. 

His ancestors, who came from noble English families, emigrated to Virginia in 
the time of Ci-omwell ; and, in that old and honored State, George Washington was 
born over fort}^ years before the Declaration of Independence. His father died 
when he was twelve years old. A large property was left to the mother and five 
children, but Mrs. Washington was a wise and prudent w^oman, and trained her 
family to be industrious and economical, setting them the example herself. 

Tlie Southern schools at that time were very poor, but George succeeded in g-ain- 
ing from one and another a fair know^ledge of reading, writing-, arithmetic, book- 
keeping, and land surveying. This last was at that time not an ordinary addi- 
tion to a young man's education. He grew tall and well-proportioned, had great 
strength," and was fond of military and athletic exercises. He was hig-h-principled 
and most careful about his accounts and his manners; he even w^rote out over a 
hundred maxims of civility and good behavior to be kept in mind and practiced. 

When he w^as sixteen years old, he undertook a survey of the wild country 
about his home in Westmoreland County, camping- out for months in the lonely 
forest, inhabited only by Indians and s(|uatters, who were neither safe nor desira- 
ble companions. This w^ork occupied him more than three years, and, beside the 
excellent pay he received for it, it was the means of making him thoroughly ac- 
ciuainted with the country which Braddock's army had to pass throug-h on the 
march against Fort Duquesne, a few years later, in the French antl Indian War. 
This life was probably the best training that the yoimg- man could have had for 
the hardships he soon had to endure. 

At the ])eginning of the Seven Years' War, or the French and Indian War, in 
irr)4, when Washington was nineteen years old, he was made an officer in the 
British Army, and at twenty-two he commanded a regiment ag-ainst the French. 

It was in this conflict that he madc^ his firs-t success as a soldier, when he w^ent 
on an errand for his commander from Williamsburg to the French settlements 
along the Ohio. His journey was five hundred and sixty miles long, and lay 
thi-ough a wild, wooded, and mountainous country, wiiere there were neither roads 
to guide noi- hortses to sheltei- any travelers. It was one of the most courageous 
acts ever undertaken by any American officer. He not only brought back ac- 
counts of the French that were of greatest importance to General Dinwiddle and 
the British Army, but he also kept a diary of his journey and the interviews with 
the French, which was sent to London and published, informing the people of 
England about the country and the power of the Frencli in America. It showed 
what the French intended to do and how well prepared they were for carrying it 



George Washington. 



141 



out. As soon as he received it, General Dinwiddie set about preparing to force the 
French to leave the g-round that the English claimed as theirs. Two companies 
were raised and put under Washington's command, with orders to " drive away, 
kill, and destro}^ or seize as prisoners all persons, not the subjects of Great Britain, 
who should attempt to take possession of the lands on the Ohio River, or any of 
its tributaries." 

This expedition failed in carrying out its purpose. The forces were far too 
few and too poor to succeed. They were not half paid, and in one of his reports 
Washington says : " The chief part are almost naked, and scarcely a man has 
either shoes, stockings, or a hat. There is not a man that has a blanket to secure 
him from cold and wet." Yet, in spite of all, they did some good fighting, 
and Colonel Washington gained a good deal of honor for his wise actions and 
bravery. But not with Dinwiddie, who placed other colonels over him, when 
more forces were raised, and treated him so disrespectfully that Washing-ton re- 
signed. But he was soon invited to become an aid to General Braddock, who 
was, about this time, appointed by the King to take charge of all the forces then 
in the field. 

When they set out toward Fort Duquesne with three thousand men— British 
regulars and Colonial troops — General Braddock expected to find the French and 
Indians drawn up in regular lines in an open field, and he thought that he would 
only need to make a bold attack and they would all run. Washington told him that 
Indians fought b}^ hiding behind trees and lying in wait in unexpected places, and 
he cautioned the English general to send out scouts in advance of the troops. But 
Braddock would not listen ; he knew more about fighting than this young Colo- 
nial captain could tell him— until the Indians did fall upon his ranks unexpectedly, 
just as Washington had foretold, sending bullets thick and fast into them, while the 
amazed Britishers saw nothing but trees at which to return fire. Many of the offi- 
cers fell ; Braddock himself w-is wounded, and Washington had to take command. 
He knew how to meet the foe with theu^ own weapons ; he scattered his men among 
the trees ; he rode here and there giving orders ; two horses were shot from under 
him, and four bullets passed through his coat, but he was not harmed. He 
checked the advance of the French and Indians, but not until nearly half of the 
English troops had been killed. 

This aflfair showed the British Government what Washington could do, and, 
when a new force was raised, he was placed in command of two thousand men. 
He had little part in the jealousy and mean actions between the British and the 
Colonial officers that so delayed success in driving out the French, and felt so 
deeply repulsed b^'- the condition of the army that he resigned after the capture of 
Fort Duquesne in November, 1758. 



14:2 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

The next j^ear he married a heautiful and accomplished widow named Mrs. 
Martha Custis, whom, with her two children, he took to his family mansion, 
Mount Vernon. He took no part in military life now; he had large estates, 
and a g-reat fortune, part of which had belong-ed to his wife when she married him. 

Thus, at twenty-seven. Washing-ton was a country gentleman, proprietor of a 
plantation upon which wheat and tobacco were raised and fisheries and brick-yards 
carried on. He had at that time about a hundred and twenty-five slaves. But he 
was a good master, and directed in his will that all his slaves should have their 
freedom so that the people of tlie two estates, who had intermarried, should not be 
separated. About the time of his marriag-e, Washington also-became a member 
of the Virguiia House of Burgesses, where he seldom took any active part. When 
he spoke at all, it was briefly, but Patrick Henry said that he was, "for solid in- 
formation and sound judgment, unquestionably the greatest man in the Assem- 
bly." He took no part in forming the nation. He was opposed to the idea of in- 
dependence, and in favor of a close union of the Colonies with the British Govern- 
ment. But when the crisis came, he was ready to take up his arms for America's 
rights. 

In June, 1775, two months after the battle of Lexington, he was chosen by the 
Continental Congress, of which he was a member, to take command of the newly 
formed army of the Colonies. His first undertaking was laying- sieg-e to Boston. 
The soldiers were poorly fitted out for their work, and not very well pleased at the 
way they were treated by Congress and the country. But Washington kept them 
at work, and in eight months the British Army marched out of Boston and left it 
to the Colonial troops. 

The people were greatly encouraged by this first victory, but soon disheart- 
ened again by a terrible defeat at Long- Island. Five thousand poorly furnished, un- 
trained men, with no cavalry, were no match for fifteen thousand veterans, well pro- 
vided with artillery. But it was only a defeat, not utter destruction, as it might 
have been if Washington had not taken advantage of a dense fog which came up 
the next day, and so skillfullj^ moved his army across the East River to New 
York, that although the two armies were so near tog-ether that their sentries 
could hear each other speak, the British never suspected Avhat the Americans 
were doing until after Washington had left the ferry with the last boat-load of his 
men. Even this was not safe, so the army was moved to the rocky heights above 
the island, furthei' away from danger. But while they escaped capture, they had 
to give up New York to the British, and retire still further thi-ough New Jersey 
to the west bank of the Delaware. Meanwhile Howe gave the patriots another 
great loss by taking F'ort Washington, with its g-arrison of three thousand men 
and all its stores. 



George Washington. 143 

But Washing-ton's turn for success soon followed. After crossing- the Dela- 
ware in open boats, one bleak December night, he captured the town of Trenton, 
in New Jersey, and took nearly a thousand prisoners, and, marching- on to Prince- 
ton, g-ained another victory, eig-ht days later. These successes cheered soldiers, 
officers, and Cong-ress, and roused General Howe and his British soldiers from the 
lazy assurance they felt over the events of the summer. 

During the year 1777, but two more battles were fought. The first was at 
Brandywine Creek, where the brave young- French officer, Lafayette, was wounded. 
There was a loss of nine hundred men to the Americans, but they would not g-ive 
up till they had another trial, which resulted in a second defeat at Germantown, 
near Philadelphia. 

At this time Washing-ton had to contend with other enemies than those in the 
field. General Charles Lee, a Welshman by birth, who stood next to him in the 
army, was all the time trying- to influence Cong-ress ag-ainst him. Instead of 
helping and obeying: Washing-ton, he dallied and thwarted his plans, hoping- to 
make Congress so dissatisfied with the way the army was manag-ed that it would 
remove the commander and g-ive the office to him. 

This was to Washington the g-loomiest period of the whole war. The country 
heard of nothing- but losses and retreats, or battles that ended in neither ^•ictory 
nor defeat. Still Cong-ress kept him at the head of the army, and Avhile his forces 
were too poor and distressed to do battle, he skillfully manag-ed to keep the army 
together. He compelled all the inhabitants of New Jersey either to join the 
United States Government or to g-o for protection within the British lines. He 
would not have any people around who pretended to be neither friend nor foe, but 
who would carry news of all his proceedings to the British. 

Three days after the sorry battle of Germantown, a second battle was fought 
at Stillwater, in New York State, and the good news spread far and wide that 
General Gates had won a victory over General Burg-o;^^le of the British forces. 
A couple of weeks later six thousand men were surrendered to the Americans 
at Saratog-a. These victories inspired the people, put new courag-e in the hearts 
of the poor fellows in Washing-ton's army, which lay in New Jersey ; and decided 
the French Government to openly ally itself with the United States. 

Still troops and supplies were withheld from the Commander-in-Chief. Alex- 
ander Hamilton was sent to Gates for part of his army, and appeals were made 
to Congress ; but a bitter winter was passed at Valley Forg-e before the help 
arrived. 

Mrs. Washing-ton spent the winter at the camp and made all the g-arments she 
could for the men ; but they were in most wretched condition. They had not 
clothes enoug-h to cover them, to say nothing- of keeping- them warm ; many had 



144 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

no shoes, and there was hardly food enoug-h to keep them from starving-. Wash- 
ington wrote ag-ain and again, begging Congress to do something to relieve the 
men who had patientlj^ endured so much, who had fought when half-starved, half- 
n^ked, and ready to drop with fatig-ue, and whose shoeless feet had marked the 
ice anil snow with blood as they marched. But secret enemies kept sending- in 
complaints of him to Congress, not in open charg-es, but by underhanded and un- 
signed letters, for Lee Avas not the only general who coveted the honorable post of 
Comniander-ni-Chief. These did not influence Congress far enoug-h to remove 
him, but they delayed it in aiding- him when his distress was so g-reat that neg-lect 
was almost wicked . 

If Washington liad been serving- himself or Cong-ress, or had had any less noble 
purpose than pure i)atriotism, he would never have patiently made the best of this 
winter anil rallied his men as soon as General Sir Henry Clinton — who now com- 
manded the British in place of Howe — left Philadelphia, following- him as he 
moved his forces througli New Jersey, and giving- battle to him at Monmouth. It 
was a gain for neither side, but it was a masterly piece of generalship, and con- 
vinced Congress that Washington was the right man for his place. It is said 
that then — for the only time in his life — he actually swore when he found that Lee 
had begun a retreat histead of making a vigorous attack as he had been ordered. 
The angered general rose in his stirrups and charg-ed upon the cowardly Welsh- 
man such a volley of just rebuke that he turned around and led into the fight. 
Washington himself led charge after charg-e. One horse sank beneath him and 
died on the spot from fatigue ; a shot from the British artillery once plowed up 
the ground a few paces in front of him; but no harm came to him. Some of his 
men repeated the words of tUe old Indian, who, after watching- him during Brad- 
dock's defeat in the French and Indian war, breathed out, " The Great Spirit pro- 
tects him; he cannot die in battle." 

Congress was so well pleased with this eng-agement that it passed a vote of 
thanks to General Washington for his bravery and ability; and Count D'Estaing-, 
the commander of the newly arrived fleet from France, wrote, "Accept, sir, the 
homage Avhich every man, especially every military man, owes 3^ou." 

Toward the close of the fall Washington encamped his forces in a g-ood place 
near Peekskill, where he could keep watch of the British and head them off 
whichever way they should try to g-o. After this, little happened, until he left 
these winter ([uarters to prevent the British from g-etting- up the Hudson. They 
had already started, but were forced to stop at Stony Point, where Washington 
sent General Wayne— brave, daring '' Mad Anthony" — to secure them. This 
charge was so well made that the Englishmen were taken without firing- a shot. 
The forces surrendered upon an advance which was made with bayonets. 



George Washington. 145 

During- the next j^ear about all the fig-hting- was done in the South. A French 
fleet of six thousand soldiers arrived at Newport, and Washing-ton went tliere to 
plan with them for future action, leaving Benedict Arnold in charge of the fortress 
at West Point. While he was gone Arnold's plot to betray the place to the British 
came very near being carried out. 

Another winter of distress followed at Morristown. The soldiers, driven to 
madness l)y their long-continued privations, broke out in open mutiny and started 
for Philadelphia to demand of Congress a settlement of their wrongs. It was 
necessary to turn the lo3^al soldiers upon their mutinous comrades before order 
could be restored. Washington persuaded them to state their grievances in a 
petition to Congrees and bound himself to make new efforts to see that some- 
thing was done for them. His personal influence and a knowledge of his s^nupathy 
had much to do in bringing back good order. 

The next summer all of the forces, French, American, and British, began to 
gather in the South, where Nathaniel Greene had been fighting for nearly a year, 
and where Lafayette had been sent in January. Washington set out to join them in 
August, taking care that Clinton at New York should not know of his course 
until he was well on the way. So, the united French and American forces shut 
Corn wa His up in Yorktown and compelled him to surrender before Clinton could 
reach him. 

This was the end of the great war, and among all the brave men who gave 
their lives to its cause, Washington was the chief hero. By his bravery, wisdom, 
fortitude, and manliness in every particular, great and small, he had led the weak 
and wavering soldiers, and directed their officers in the paths that led to victory. 
All the civilized world united in praising his wisdom, his courage, and nil liis 
great ciualities as a military commander ; but at home, while people loved him 
.deeply for these virtues, he was still more esteemed for his justice, kindness, and 
generosity. He had no enemy whom he did not treat as a man ; no private was too 
humble for kindness and courtesy ; a sick prisoner was as carefully considered as his 
own aids ; and no hope of dashing glor^^ could ever make hmi forget that his 
ranks were made up of his fellow-men. 

Now another test came ; but the soldier could also be a statesman. First in 
war, he was also first in peace. He became the leader in establishing the new 
nation, and fostered the peace of the country as devotedly as he had guided its war- 
fare. He took deep and active interest in the government hy Congress, presiding 
over the meetings of the new convention which arranged a government more 
suited to the new conditions of the country than the old form, and finally adopted 
the Federal Constitution ; and when it came time to choose some one who should 
.stand at the head of the neAv repul)lic, Washington was the choice of the peoiDle. 



146 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

It was the most important and eventful period of any time of peace in our history, 
hut throus'hout all of two terms he was the faithful, wise, and skillful President. 
His Cabinet was made up of the best men in the country, and in all the work of 
planning- out and forming a new g-overnment, of settling the policy of the republic 
in matters of both home and foreign affairs, and meeting- all the unexpected diffi- 
culties which kept constantly rising- both for the present and the future, Wash- 
ington was always equal to his post, prudent, active, careful, just, and never 
losing sight of the one great bond of the nation, federal union. After an adminis- 
tration of eight years, in which the nation had become quite firmly established 
and i)i'osi)erous, he refused anotlier term, and went to live quietly at the family 
seat of Mount Vernon. 

He was as upright and noble in appearance as in mind. He was six feet, two 
mches tall, with brown hair, blue eyes, a large head, and strong- arms. He was a 
bold and graceful i-idcr and hunter, and w^hether at home or in the field, he was 
alw ays careful of his personal appearance. His manners were g-entle and gracious, 
tliough dignified, and at times cold and reserved. His house at Washington was 
like a court, where the customs were as formal and stately as those of a prince's 
palace, and the President's wife was spoken of as " Lady " Washington. 

George Washington was born in Westmoreland County, Virginia, on the 22d 
of February, 1732. He died at Mount Vernon, Virginia, December 14, 1799. 

General Washington said that if any accident should befall him so that he would 
be unal)le to lead the American army, the one general whom he would name to 
take his place would be ]\jitli;iiiiel Greene. 

When the news of the battle of Lexington reached Warwick County. Rhode Is- 
land, he was a member of the Kentish Guards of Coventrj^, and Avith them he 
started at once for Boston ; and when the Tory Governor ordered them back 
Gi'eene was one of the four who, refusing- to obey, mounted the first horses they 
could find and galloped on to Boston. 

At this time he was the foremost man in Coventry, and g-eneral in his State 
militia. He had been expelled fi-om the Society of Friends, or Quakers, into 
which he had been born, because he not only loved military life, but was also de- 
termined to light against the armies of Great Britain. 

He had begun life by working- on his father's farm and at his iron forge, and 
after working- long over-hom-s to earn money to buy books, he had sat up late at 
night to stud.>' them, until he had succeeded in getting- a pretty good education. 
His knowledge and good sense gained for him the respect of all the leading men in 
and about his town, and he liad been a member of the Rhode Island Colonial As- 
semhly U)v five years before the battle of Lexington was fought and the Kentislx 



Nathaniel Greene. 



147 



Guards started for the seat of war. The Assembly of Rhode Ishiiid soon after 
raised a force of sixteen hundred men, and Greene was hy common consent ap- 
pointed major-g-eneral. This was in May, 1775, and from that time until the army 
was disbanded at the close of the war in 1783, he never left the service even on a 
day's furlough. 

The good effects of hard study in his earlier days now began to be seen. He 




Nathaniel Greene. 

soon mastered military tactics, and drilled his raw troops so thoroughly that two 
months later, when Washington took command of the Colonial forces, he pro- 
nounced Greene's troops " the best disciplined in the whole army." 

Washington and Greene became fast friends from their first meeting. The 
great commander saw at once that he could place confidence in this young Rhode 
Islander, and he did. 

But during the next battle — that of Long Island — Greene lay helpless with an 



148 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

attack of fe\(M-, within sound of the firing- but scarcely al)le to raise his head from 
the pillow. This was a g-reater trial than any he ever had on the field. He had 
made himself thoroug'hly familiar with all the points along- the shore. He knew 
just where the most dang-erous places were, just where the strong-est blows could 
be struck bettei- than any one else, and now he must lie still and w"iit for the re- 
sidt. He actually cried when told of the Americans' defeat and the g-reat havoc 
made in his own favorite regiment. Just as soon as he dared leave his bed, he 
mounted his horse and again took his command. 

AVhcn AVashington withdrew to White Plains h-e sent Greene to watch Staten 
Island, and a little later he was put in charg-e of the troops in New Jersey. When 
the brilliant dash at Trenton was made Greene was Washington's best man, and 
his assistance at Princeton had much to do with that victory. 

While the armj' Avas encamped at Morristown, New Jersey, during- the second 
winter of the war, Greene was sent by Washing-ton to Cong-ress to set before it 
the condition of the army and the need of more troops, what dang-ers it would 
have to meet, and what was needed to prepare for them. Only a part of the 
needed assistance was gained, and the spring- opened with poor prospects for the 
l)at riots. * 

In the battle of Rrandywine, the first in the campaig'u of 1777, Greene distin- 
g-uished himself during the I'etreat of the defeated Americans by his coolness and 
firnmess in holding the British back from their hot pursuit until the disordered 
ranks c-oukl reform. Finding- a favorable spot in a narrow^ pass throug'h a thicket, 
he made a stand and held the pass until nightfall. 

It is said that if his advice had been taken, both the defeat at Brandywine 
and that at Germantown, immediately after, might have been avoided. He was 
askt'd to select places for the army each time, and chose strong- ones where they 
could have held their ground against attack, but his advice was overruled by the 
other g-enei-als, wlio were anxious to fi.ght in the open field, and defeat was the 
result. 

When the army went into camp at Valley Forg-e, during- the third winter of 
the war, Gi'eene was made quartermaster-g-enei-al. 

The battle of Monmouth was their first eng-ag-ement after breaking camp. It 
Avas here thai Lee, dis()l)eyin.g Washing-ton's order, began the retreat, which but 
for Greene would have been carried out with great loss to the Americans. Greene 
ju-omptly came up with his force, and, seeing that Lee's action prevented him from 
carrying- out his own orders, he resolved to act quickly, without direction, and 
take a good stand where he could stop the course of the enemy, wiiich was moving 
upon Washington's troops in great force. In this he drew a large part of them 
away fi-om tluMi- attack on Washington toward himself, but his men met their 



Nathaniel Greene. 149 

furious charg-e with the same steady nerves and cool determination showed by 
their commander. They held their g-round and poured volley after volley into the 
British ranks until they were glad to draw back. That night the Americans slept 
upon the ground with their arms at their sides as they had foug-lit; the next 
morning-, wiien the daylig'ht appeared, the British were nowhere to be seen. 

Greene's next active service was at Newport, where he was sent to assist Sul- 
livan in an attack upon the British. Here he ag-ain held his g-round against 
the British regulars until they were forced to retire. Then the American force 
marched to a place of safety before the British were ready to make another attack. 
This, too, was under very unfavorable circumstances, for there had been a disa- 
g-reement between General Sullivan and the French commander, D'Estaing, antl 
the Frenchman had left the Americans in such danger that they were very 
ang-ry. Sullivan prepared a sharp letter to send to Cong-ress, and Washing-ton 
ordered Greene to g-o to Cong-ress and tr3^ to make peace between Sullivan and 
D'Estai-ng. Greene arrived on the same morning- that Sullivan's letter came. In the 
g-allery sat D'Estaing-, the French Minister, and some other distinguished French- 
men. As the Clerk was opening- the letter, Greene, who sat near the President, 
hastily wrote to him on a slip of paper, " Don't let that letter be read until you 
have looked it over." The President whispered to the Clerk not to read it, other 
business came up, and the offensive letter was not read. If it had been, probably 
the French Avould have refused at once to help the Americans any more. A few 
words in time had saved to the nation its g-reatest ally, and Greene returned to 
camp. 

During- the months that followed, very little fig-hting- was done hy any of the 
forces, and the idle hands found mischief, as they always do. Env^^ and jealousy 
broke out among- the officers. Greene, as well as Washing-ton, had some very 
active enemies. He was accused of using his office of quartermaster for his own 
profit. Congress took the matter up, and Greene was asked to give an account of 
all his property. He easily proved that these statements were false, but he deeply 
resented them and soon resig-ned the office of quartermaster. In less than six 
months his slanderers had reason to wish they had kept still and let his manag-e- 
ment alone. 

In the early part of 1780 Washing-ton left Greene to g-uard Spring-field, New 
Jersey, while he moved north to protect West Point, which the British seemed to 
be threatening-. As soon as Washing-ton was well on his way the British sud- 
denly turned and marched toward Springfield five thousand strong-. Greene had 
but two brig-ades and a small body of militia — thirteen hundred in all. But he 
placed these in suchg-ood position, and roused them to such a firm spirit of resist- 
ance, that the British were obliged to return to Eliza bethtown. 



J-,,, One Hnndrcd Famous Americans. 

Then tliciv came another period of rest. Washington went to Hartford to con- 
snlt with the French o-eneiuls and left Greene to take charge of the arniy and to 
Iveep liini informed of all that went on. With a way of learning about everything 
that went on at the British headquarters at New York, Greene soon discovered 
that something was going to happen. He wrote to Washington about it, but said 
that the success of the plan seemtid to depend on keeping it a secret. Two days 
later the secret was out. It was Benedict Arnold's plot to let the British into 
West Point. Andre was captured ; Greene presided over the court that tried 
him and signed the death-warrant, although he would have gladly made the sen- 
tence lighter if he had thought it right. 

He was then put in charge of West Point. Soon after this the seat of war was 
changed to the South, and there Greene was sent before long to take the place of 
Gates, the victor of Saratoga, after his sorry defeat at Camden in the midsummer 
of 1780. 

Greene found his command in a miserable condition. The term of most of the 
men had exjiii-ed. so there was really no army and no supplies, and Congress was 
out of money with which to provide any of these. But gradually a small force, 
mostly raw militia, was collected, and with these Greene did some of the most brill- 
iant fighting of the war. He gained no great victories — his forces were too weak 
for that — but by watchfulness and activity he turned even his defeats to good ac- 
count ; he took advantage of every mistake ; he hung over all the enemy's move- 
ments, ready to strike an unexpected blow ; he chased them here and there, and at 
last compelled them to leave the whole country — Georgia and the Carolinas — and 
to shut themselves up in Charleston. The battle of Eutaw Springs, from which the 
retreat into Charleston was made, Avas one of the severest battles of the whole war. 
It was hard to say which side gained the victory ; the British claimed it, but they 
^\■el•e glad to leave the field as soon as possible after it was over. They retreated 
to Cliarleston, and at last their power in the South was broken. Thus, " by sheer 
caution, activity', and perseverance, and without winning a single victory, Greene 
luul almost cleared the South of the enemy." 

The surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, which occurred about two months 
after this, brought an end to the war in the North, but there was still trouble in 
the South. For more than a year longer Greene was obliged to be constantly on 
the watch for- sallies fi'om the British garrisons ; his own army was in the greatest 
distress nuich of the time ; they had no food and were forbidden b^- the Legislature 
of South Carolina to supply themselves by foraging ; the}' had hardly rags enough 
to cover them; sickness broke; out and finally mutin3^ A second act of treason 
was found out just in time to save the loyal soldiers from a combined attack hy 
ilir P>ritish and the rebelling Americans. 



John Paul Jones. 151 

Finally, the Southern Army saw the last of the Eng'lish Army depart from 
Charleston, It entered the city amidst g-reat rejoicing-, while the praises of Gen- 
eral Greene resounded through the country and even across the Atlantic. As a 
soldier and a man, he is ranked above every other officer in the Revolution, ex- 
cepting- the great Commander-in-Chief. But there was stiir another long- delay he- 
fore the needy army was disbanded and Greene was free to return to his home. 
Even then it was not to settle down to the comfort that he had justly earned. 

When the Leg-islatui-es of Georgia and the Carolinas first met, after the battle 
of Eutaw Spring's had made it safe for them to do so, they showed how much they 
valued General Greene's services by voting him large sums of money and lands. 
These he had pledged to secure food and clothing- for his army, but the g-reater 
part was swept away by the false-dealing- of one in whom he had trusted. With the 
little that was left he settled with his family in Georgia in the spring of 1785. The 
next year, while walking- out in the rice-field, he had a sun-stroke which caused his 
death within a week. 

Nathaniel Greene was born in Warwick, Rhode Island, May 27, 1712. He died 
on his estates near Savannah, Georgia, June 19, 178G. 

The greatest naval hero of the Revolution was John Paul Jones, a Scotch- 
man, who first came to America when he was an apprentice-boy, on an errand for 
his master, a g-reat English tobacco merchant. He was only John Paul then, for 
the Jones was added to his name in later years. 

At the ag-e of twelve he had been sent to Whitehaven, in England, which is 
just across the Sol way Firth or bay from his native place. There he was appren- 
ticed to a merchant who had a larg-e trade with America. He was a brig-ht and 
studious boy, and one that could be trusted, so the next year, when the merchant 
sent a ship to Virginia for a cargo of tobacco, John Paul went along-, for he had a 
brother in that State. He was much pleased with the new country, but still more 
so with his voyage. Life at sea seemed so delightful to him that he beg-an to study 
navigation at once; and when, soon after his return to England, his master's 
business failed, he was glad to be released from his apprenticeship so that he could 
become a sailor. His studies had fitted him to take a g'ood place in the merchant 
service, and he soon had an offer to ship in the slave trade, which was one of the 
most flourishing branches of English commerce in the last half of the last century. 
So arrangements were made, and the day came when the King George set sail 
from Whitehaven with John Paul for third mate. The ship went to Africa and 
returned, and when Paul next went to sea — which was very soon — it was as chief 
mate of the Two Friends. He was now nineteen years old, and carried his carg-o 
of human beings safely to the island of Jamaica, where the vessel belonged. But 



152 One Hiindred Fainous Americans. 

as soon as his duty was fuKilled he gave up the ship. He declared he would never 
a"-ain have anything- to do with the slave trade, and took passage for home in the 
first ship hoinid for Great Britain. Yellow fever broke out during the voyage. 
Captain, mate, and all the chief officers died, leaving the brig in the middle of 
the Atlantic without a man of the crew able to guide its course. The young pas- 
senger took command, and the men soon saw that, though he was but twenty 
\-ears of age, he was a thorough sailor, and all obeyed and respected him as their 
re^-ular chief. He brought the vessel safely to her port, which was near his own 
liome, and the company rewarded him by making him her captain. 

During his first regular voyage in this brig, a false report Avas raised that he 
killed the carpenter, whom he had had to flog for neglecting his duty, but who died 
of a fever some time after landing at the West Indies. This was so much talked 
about, and so great a time made over Captain Paul's "cruelties,'" that he left 
Scotland for good in 1771. After serving hi England's West India trade for 
awhile, he came to Virginia, where his brother had left him heir to a goodly- estate. 
The country which had distrusted and slandered him he would claim no longer. 
Hereafter he would be an American. He would not even bear the old name, but 
wovdd be John Paul Joties in future. 

In a couple of years the Revolutionary War broke out, and the first of the 
first lieutenants appointed in the new navy was John Paul Jones. He was placed 
on board of the frigate yi //red, the first vessel, it is said, over which the American 
flag ever floated. It was Lieutenant Jones himself who first hoisted the yellow 
sheet when the commodore came to the fleet, and displayed to Commander 
Hopkins the coiled rattlesnake and the motto " Don't tread on me.'' 

After his first voyage, in which he made the attack on Providence Island, 
Jones was promoted to commander of the Providence. In this, during a cruise 
of six weeks, he captured sixteen prizes. He was then made one of the regular 
captains in the young navy of the United States, and ordered to start out on 
board the Banger for a two or three months' cruise against the craft of England. 
At that time our whole navy numbered only a few vessels, while England had 
over a thousand. It needed a great deal of skill to keep out of the way of their 
heavy men-of-war, and still more to watch them and make unexpected attacks 
on them at just the right moment. But Jones was as keen and alert as an enemy 
as he was able as a seaman. He took man}?- English merchant and trading ves- 
sels, and even drove some fishing-vessels away from their grounds at Cape 
Breton. 

After this tlie English concluded that the Banger needed looking after, so 
they fitted out and sent off the Drake, a larger vessel than Jones's, with almost 
twice as many guns. Her orders were to capture the Banger. The two vessels 



Jo1ni Paul Jones. 



153 



met just off the southeastern coast of Scotland, in April of 1778, and after an 
hour of quick, sharp, and spirited fighting, the Drake, instead of the Banger, 
was the captured craft. Captain Jones carried his prize to the coast of France 
and sent the Ranger home to America. 

The news of this victory was a surprise to every one and a very unpleasant 
one to England. They had before felt nothing but disdain for the weak little 




John Paul Jones. 

navy of the " American Colonies," but now they learned that it was not as harm- 
less as it was young and small. 

For five months after the capture of the Drake, Jones was kept waiting in 
France for a vessel. While people were talking over and praising his naval skill 
he was without money or employment in a foreign country. Congress was too 
poor to fit out another vessel, or even to send him the money he needed to keep 
himself and crew from want. About this time Benjamin Franklin succeeded in 
getting the French Government to openly become our ally, and Jones looked to 
them for a vessel and supplies. 

While he was watching and waiting for a reply to some of the numerous let- 
ters he had written to the court, he one day came across a copy of " Poor Richard's 
Almanac," in which he found one of Franklin's wise sayings that applied ex- 



154 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

actly to his own case. It was, "If you want your business Avell done, go and 
do it yourself." Jones resolved to act on this stray bit of advice, and went at 
once to the king-. His honor and fame fi'om tlie Bangers exploits were enough 
to admit him to the court, where he covdd command respect and attention by his 
presence as well as his renown. He had made himself well educated and culti- 
vated by adding industry to his genius, and although his figure was neither large, 
robust, nor moi'e than medium tall, it was active and vigorous. His weather- 
l)eaten face had keen black eyes that lightened a certain melancholy grace which 
softeneil his compact and determined-looking features. He soon interested the 
king in his desire to raise a fleet and again meet America's enemies on the sea. 
Arrangements that had already been begun were now soon completed, and a 
squatlron oH French and American vessels was placed under the command of 
Jones, wlio named the old Indiaman, which fell to his lot, the Bo7i Homme 
Bic/iard. That meant the Good Man Richard, in English, and was in honor of 
Benjamin Franklin, the almanac-maker and distinguished Amei-ican Minister to 
France. 

Wlien at last the squadron was ready, the Bon Homme Richard and her four 
companion vessels set sail from ^France in the middle of August, 1779, the fourth 
year of the war. It was a poor fleet, manned with a motlej^ crew of more foreign- 
ers tlian Americans and some under-officers that were not fit for their posts. But 
it seemed as if no disadvantages could cause Commander Jones to fail. After a 
month's cruising he had captured and destroyed twenty-six of the enemy's 
vessels. 

One day in the latter part of September, near the end of his course around the 
British Isles, the Bon Homme Richard, the Pallas, and the Alliance suddenly 
fell in with the Baltic fleet, off Flamborough Head. The fleet was protected by 
two British cruisers, the Countess of Scarborough and the Serapis. The last 
was a fine new frigate, carrying forty-four guns and manned by a picked crew. 
She was larger and far stancher than anj- of Jones's vessels, but the commander 
was not daunted and prepared the Bon Homme to give her battle. 

The engagement took place on a smooth sea and in the calm moonlight of the 
night of September 23d, a date that will always be remembered , for this was one of 
1 lit- most remarkable naval l)attles ever fought. In everything except the valor and 
genius of her commander, the Serapis had the advantage, for although Captain 
Pearson A\as a brave and able man, he had his superior in John Paul Jones. The 
lUni Hininiic liad two guns burst at the outset, killing a number of men, and in the 
lliick of the figlit, for some unknown reason, her own comrade, the Alliance, un- 
der the zealous Frenchman Landais, fired upon her again and again, while the 
Serapis was pouring volley upon volley into her rotten timbers from the other 



John Paul Jones. 155 

side. After awhile Captain Pearson called out, " Has your ship struck ? " to which 
Jones flung- hack the answer, ''• I have not yet begun to fight." Then he helped 
to lash the jib-stay of the Serajjis to the mizzen-mast of the Richcnxl, and the 
deadly firing was thicker than ever, hand to hand and muzzle to muzzle. 

The Seirqn's had a full battery against three guns on the RicharcVs deck, but 
the Richard's tops were filled \\ith sailors who, armed with muskets and hand- 
g-renades, swept the Englishman's boards, and finally set fire to a quantity of 
carti'idges which exploded with as much damage to the Serapis as the Richard 
received when her g-uns burst at the beginning- of the battle. Then there came a 
cry that the RicharcVs hull had been broken in and the vessel was sinking-. A 
hundred English prisoners rushed up from below, but before they had a chance to 
leap upon the deck of the Serapis, Jones, cool and commanding, ordered them to 
the pumps. They were prisoners of war, honor-bound to obey him, and so they 
saved the vessel from sinking till the Serapis struck her colors— both vessels then 
on fire. Unseaworthy to start with, the Bon Homme could not be saved ; she was 
left the next morning- and soon sank to the bottom. Meanwhile the Pallas, which 
had a better officer than the Alliance, captured the Countess of Scarborough, 
so the American victory was complete. 

Honors and praises were awarded to Jones and his officers in all lands. Louis 
XVI. presented him with a sword and the cross of military merit, receptions were 
given, speeches made, and great distinction was paid him on all sides. On return- 
ing to Pliiladelphia, soon after, lie received from Cong-ress a g-old medal, and both 
by public honors and individual tokens the people showed him how much they ap- 
preciated his services to his adopted country. 

This was in the earl^^ part of 1781, and Jones's next command was to be the 
America, a larg-e vessel carrying- seventy-four g'uns, then being- finished at Ports- 
mouth. But before the good ship was ready for the sea, Cornwallis surrendered 
to Washington and there were no more battles to be fought. Then it was decided 
to give her to France in return for a French vessel that had been destroyed in 
Boston Harbor, and Jones joined the French squadron to take part in King- Louis's 
war with England, which the alliance with the United States had brought about. 
But the news of the general peace reached them at the West Indies, and he re- 
turned to Philadelphia. 

While on a visit to France about five years later, he received an invitation to 
join the Russian Navy with the rank of a rear admiral. He accepted this upon 
condition that he should still remain an American citizen and should never be asked 
to fig-ht against France. 

He was now forty years of age and a famous hero. The Russian officers felt 
jealous of his g-reat name and the favor he had in their service, and finally sue- 



156 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

ceeded in carrying- false reports of him to the Czarina — tlie g-reat Queen Catharine 
— and gettini^- him retired. Wlien he left the service he was promised a handsome 
pension, which was never received ; and the man who had commanded the atten- 
tion and admiration of the world died in poverty and neglect at Paris, while a 
conmhssion from the United States to make a treaty with the Dey of Algiers was 
on its way to him. 

John Paul Jones was l)orn at Arl)igiand, Scotland, on the Gth of July, 1747. 
He died in Paris, France, July 18, 1792. 

The War of the Revolution had not swept far into the Carolinas before it 
reached the Waxhaw Settlement and the home of Andrew Jackson. He was 
" little Andy " then, an active, dai'ing lad of thirteen, the most mischievous boy 
in the neighborhood, always " up to " some prank and always getting into trouble. 
He had first attended an "old field school," which was a log- hut in one of the 
pine forests that spring up in the South on old fields which have been used for 
raising cotton until they will grow no more. 

Andj^'s father had died before he was born, and his mother was poor, but she 
succeeded in having him go away to school, where he was studying for college. 
But he had time to leai-n little more than reading, writing-, and arithmetic before 
the war closed the school-houses of the South and filled the minds of young and 
old with other thoughts than of study. Andy's daring spirit was roused by the 
stirring reports that reached him. He was lively, fond of jumping, foot-racing, 
and ^vi^estling— a regular little soldier even as a school-boy. He was slender, and 
more active than strong, so very often he was thrown. One of his playfellows 
used to say, " I could throw him three times out of four, but he never would stay 
throwed. He was dead game even then, and never would give up.'' He was 
rather hard to get along with among boys of his own ag-e, but there was nothing 
he would not do to defend the younger boys, who accepted him as their leader. 

When the sweep of Avar reached their district, Andrew and his two larger 
bi'others were wild with eagerness to join in "for Congress" and against the 
British. So the three boys — Andy only thirteen years old — mounted their horses 
and went out with the little parties that scoured the country, breaking- up the 
small i)osts of the enemy and doing what deeds of service they could. 

After the surrender of Cornwallis the Waxhaw people went back to their 
honu's, from which they had been driven by fear and the enemy ; but Andrew, un- 
settled for study, too young and not prepared for work, remained in the city. One 
year, to liis own shame, lie wasted in trying to have a g-ood time, and two others 
were of little account to him, but suddenly making up his mind that he would 
have to go to woik at something- if he would succeed in life, he left his g-ay friends 



Andreui Jackson. 



157 



and went back to the country. He taui^ht school for awhile, and in the winter of 
1785 began to study law at Salisljury. There was at this time a fine opportunity' 
for young" men to work their way up in the world throug'h the profession of law. 
The Tory barristers, who beforetime had had the largest share in this business, 
were now shut out, and the many changes in the country called loudly for others 




Andrew Jackson. 

in the profession to take their places, for old Whig lawyers had more than they 
could do. After two or three years of faithful study, Andrew was licensed to 
practice, and before long he was appointed Solicitor foi' the Western District of 
South Carolina, which is now Tennessee. 

He was then a fine-looking young man about twenty-one years old, tall, straight 
and slender, dignified and active. He was a good rider, a capital shot, and a 
leader among his friends in all kinds of out-door sport. He was gay and spirited. 



158 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

brave but not rasli, prudent but no coward — just the man for a frontier settle- 
ment harassed by Indians. His red neighbors soon found out his nature, and 
while they feared him thej^ also admired him, and called him the " Pointed Knife '' 
and the " Sharp Arrow." Every time there was an outbreak, Jackson took the 
lead against them, always showing so much courage and judgment, both in 
meeting the Indians and in quieting them, that his name became quite famous 
throughout the vicinity, and he was made major-g-eneral of the new State of Ten- 
nessee, which was formed about eight years after he moved out there. 

He also did a great deal in organizing this State, helping' to plan the Constitu- 
tion, representing it in Washing-ton at diflCerent times, both in the House of Rep- 
resentatives and in the Senate, and after that, he held the office of Judge of the 
Supreme Court. 

When the second war with Great Britain was declared, he easily raised a 
force of twentj'-five hundred volunteeers, and offered their services and his own 
to the Government, in June of 1812. Although his troops were accepted, they 
wei-e not given anything much to do until the next fall, when \hex were sent out 
ag-ainst the Creek Indians, wiiom the}^ completely routed, ending entirely this In- 
dian outbreak, sometimes called the Creek War, and breaking- forever the Indian 
power in Noi-th America. It was during- this campaign that once, when the food 
g-ave out, Jackson set his men the example of eating hickory-nuts to keep from 
starving, and gained by it the name of " Old Hickory." Because of the skill and 
energy shown in this hard and dang-erous undertaking, Jackson was appointed a 
major-general of the regular army. He was then forty-seven years old. hardy, 
active, and energetic ; one of the most popular men in the country. 

He was not now kept back, as when he first entered the Avar. In the fall, when 
an invasion of the British was expected in the South, he was ordered to the Gulf 
of ^Mexico to oppose them. In the first place, he seized Pensacola, which belonged 
to Spain, but was used by the British, and then he moved his army to New Or- 
leans, for although that was a gateway for invasion, it was so poorly defended 
that the English might ahuost have taken it without any effort. In about two 
weeks after he arrived in the " Crescent City " the invasion began, but Jackson 
not only succeeded in keeping the enemy out until th(^ defenses were finished, and 
repulsed their attack on New Year's Day, but also met their veteran troops, wliich 
far outnumbered his own, in the great assault on the 8th of January, and defeated 
them with great loss to the British from the deadly fire of his artillery and the 
unerring aim of his Kentucky and Tennessee riflemen. To the British— says 
Jackson's biographer— there was a loss of two g-enerals and seven hundred men 
killed, fourteen hundred wounded, and live hundred prisoners— the result of 
twenty-five niinutes' work, in which Jackson's loss was eiglit killed and thirteen. 



Andrew Jackson. 159 

wounded. This deed g-ave " Old Hickory " an everlasting- popularity among his 
countrymen. It was one of the most hiilliant and decisive victories evei' gained 
in Ameiica, and raised Jackson's rank to that of about the greatest general in 
the country. It was the last conflict of the war. The treaty had ali-eady been 
signed at Ghent, and the news of peace would have reached America before the 
engag"ement if there had then been the means of quick communication aci'oss the 
Atlantic that there now are. 

Those were troublous times in our country. Peace was scarcely settled on 
one hand before there was war on another. Before long- it was the Seminole In- 
dians of Florida — then owned by Spain — who raised an outbreak among- the 
Indians of Georg-ia. General Jackson marched down upon them. He settled 
their outbreak with sharp, quick measures, but aroused the Spanish Government 
by g"oing- into their territory and hanging- two Englishmen whom he believed to 
have been the cause of the whole affair. This almost brought on a war with 
Spain, But the matter was settled b^^ John Quincy Adams, who wrote letters 
and despatches to both England and Spain, and tinall}^ succeeded in cleai-ing Jack- 
son from blame. But in America, while Adams and Calhoun upheld him, Clay 
and Crawford censured him, and as each of these led a considerable nmnber of 
others, there was a small war at home, in Congress, for a time. Lutit was more 
out of jealous}^ about who should g-ain favor toward the next Presidency than 
because Jackson had hung- two men whom he thoug-ht guilty of stii-iing up 
strife in Florida. 

After Spain had ceded Florida to the United States, General Jackson was 
made Governor of the Territoi-y, Later, he was United States Senator from 
Tennessee for a second time, and became a candidate for President in the cam- 
paign in which John Quincy Adams was elected. But in the next canvass lie ran 
again and succeeded ; four years later he was re-elected, more popular tlian 
ever ; and at the end of his second term he had so much influence that, because of 
his support. Van Buren became the next President, althoug'h Calhoun, the other 
candidate, was far more popular in himself. " 

He showed g-reat firmness and judgment as President, and held to what he 
thought right against any amount of opposition. After a long- strugg-le he suc- 
ceeded in destroying the Bank of the United States, and took the first steps 
toward having- for our country an independent Treasury and a specie currency. 

The six Presidents before him had believed that the Government offices should 
be held by men worthy of their positions without considering- their politics, but 
Jackson believed that the offices should be given to the members of the party in 
power. The party that had elected him was the one now beginning to be known 
as the Democrats, and so he set the custom called "rotation in office"' bv dis- 



160 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

char^in.i? officers belonging- to other parties — even when there was no other 
reason for their leaving — and put the Democrats in their places. While this has 
alwavs been strongly opposed by many citizens and statesmen, it has remained in 
force ever since, altiiongh a beginning was made against it a few years ag-o by 
passing the laws of Civil Service Reform. 

The greatest event of Jackson's second term was his prompt action in putting 
down the '• nulUfication " measm-es in South Carolina after the convention led by 
Calhoun, Hayne, and others, to declare the ttiriflf law null and void. His motto 
as a statesman was : " Our Federal Union : it must be preserved." 

If tliis had not been his principle and he had not known how to meet and crush 
the first efforts of South Carolina to secede from the Union, the division between 
North and South would probably have been carried, the United States would 
have been broken up, and the great Republic of the West would have been lost 
in a group of petty, sellish States in constant jealousy — and perhaps strife— against 
each other ; for there was not then enough strength of feeling- among- the Union- 
ists to do what they did thirty years after. 

When Jackson left the White House, it was as a completely successful man. 
(^ne of our historians says : " He had won all his political battles. He had kept 
his oath that he would put down nullification and maintain the Union. He had 
tlriven Calhoun and his friends out of the Democratic party. He had driven the 
Bank of the United States almost out of existence. He had succeeded in making- 
Van Buren, who had supported him in all his struggles, President. He had sue- " 
ceeded in making Roger B. Taney, \\\\o had supported him in his strug-g-le with 
the Bank, Chief Justice. At the end of his second term, having- beaten all his 
enemies, and rewarded all his friends, Jackson retired from public life to his 
home in Tennessee," leaving- upon the nation an impression that will outlast 
liis century and perhaps remain in its very warp and woof forever. 

Andrew Jackson was born March 15, 1767, in what was called the Waxliaw 
settlement, either in North or South Cai-olina, it is not known which, although he 
believed himself a native of the southern State. He died at his country-seat, 
the Hermitage, near Nashville, Tennessee, June 8, 1845. 

In tlie second conflict with England, which is often called the War of 1812, 
^Miilii'ld Scott was the hero of the North, and in the war with Mexico, thirtj^- 
tiv(! years latei-, he became the most distinguished general in the United States 
service. 

He belonged to a race of soldiers. His grandfather was one of the brave 
band of Scottish Highlandei-s who joined Prince Charles and fought in vain to 
place the Stuarts again on the English throne. His father came fr-om Scotland 



Winfield Scott. 



161 



to Virginia, and was a lawyer in Pittsburg- at the time Winfield was born. But 
the father died when tlie boy was five years old, and twelve years after, his 




Winfield Scott. 

mother died. He was sent to school in Richmond, and then went to William and 
Mary's Colleg'e and heard law lectures for a year. At the age of twenty he was 
admitted to the bar, but three years for preparatory studies, colleg-e, and law 
course was not time euoug-h to make a law3'er, and Scott did not succeed very 



102 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

well uiion he began to practice. Before he had settled llie ditticulty of g-etting 
startt'd in this pi-ofession, the troubles about Anier-ican seamen began with Eng- 
land. He saw that it must end in war, and so turned from hiAv to join the army. 
He was placed in General Wilkinson's division, which was sent to protect the 
frontier of the new Territory of Louisiana from any possible attacks by the British. 
With many others, Scott suspected General Wilkinson of being connected with 
Aaron Buit's conspiracy to separate the Western from the Atlantic States, but 
he spoke too freely about it, and — although it was afterward proved true— he was 
suspended from the army for a yeai-, for disrespect toward his superior officer. 

This was a marked disgrace for the young soldier, and he felt it, too. He knew 
it was not an undeserved punishment, and he resolved to make the best of it. After 
getting back to Vii-ginia, he looked about for some profitable way to spend the 
time. Some one advised him to devote it to the study of his profession, especially 
military tactics. His biographer says : 

*'The knowledge of military art he gained during- this period of his disgrace, 
the caution and skill it taught him to mingle with his chivalrous feelings and boil- 
ing courage, laid the foundation of his after brilliant career."' 

At the end of the year lie was very glatl to take his place again. The war- 
cloud that had been hanging over the country so long now burst. Scott was ap- 
pointed lieutenant-colonel and sent to the Canadian frontier, where the long and 
honorable record of his warrior life began. His first battle, at Queenstown 
Heights, in Canada, was a failure. But that was no fault of Scott. The next year 
he was again promoted. In May, after a most ten il)le battle, he captured Fori 
George. This was almost over when a bursting magazine sent a piece of timber 
that hurled the gallant colonel off his horse ; but, jumping up, he urged on his 
men to final victory, and was the first to enter the gates of the enemy's fort. He 
was scarcely twenty-seven years old at this time, and in the next year he was ap- 
pointed brigadier-general and given charge of what is. called a " camp of instruc- 
tion" in Buffalo. Here he introduced the modern French system of tactics, 
which had never before been used in America, translating from the French the first 
lK)<)k on the subject ever broiiglit out in this country. The thorough drilling 
Avhicli for three months he gave the soldiers under his charge was of the greatest 
importance in the successes of the later campaigns. 

Early in July the army crossetl the Niagara River and took Fort Erie. Two 
days afterward the famous Chippewa engagement took place, after which Genera) 
Riall and his British forces were driven beyond the Chippewa River. Twenty da \s 
passed after this struggle before the armies met again, but on the 25th of July — 
it was in the year 18i;J — they came together at Lundy's Lane, and fought the cel- 
ebrated '• Battle of Niagara." Tlie story of this is well known ; it was one of the 



Winfield Scott. IB!) 

most stirring events in American history, and Scott was its hero. Although he 
lost one-quarter of his brigade, he refused to yield a bit of ground, leading almost 
every charge himself, and showing such gay spirits and unflinching courage 
through the deadliest tire that the troops caught the infection and fought with all 
their might. Every man that day was a hero. Help finally came and the victory 
was won. The English officers were brave .men, too ; and they were stung to the 
({uick that they should have been so determinedly opposed and beaten at last. 
They renewed the attack again and again, thinking each one must be the last that 
the ragged ranks of the Americans could stand. But the Americans had the 
same order every time, " Chcu^ge again .^ " As Scott, apparently dying, was borne 
to the rear, every regimental officer in the brigade killed or wounded, he shout(^d, 
" Charge again ! " After eleven o'clock at night the firing ceased, leaving the 
Americans with the field. 

It cannot be said that the battle of Niagara added territory or prisoners to our 
country's possessions, but it was, next to Bunker Hill, the most important contest 
we ever had. England learned a second time what kind of men she had to fight 
over here. Scott did not recover from his wounds for several months, and, 
the treaty being made at the close of the year, he had no further part in the war. 
But the fame of his valor and great services at Lundy's Lane spread far and wide. 
He was made a major-general, and received a vote of thanks from Congress, 
which also requested the President — James Madison — to j^resent him with a gold 
medal, "for his distinguished services," it said, and for his "uniform gallantry 
andg'ood conduct in keeping up the reputatioti of the arms of the Unit(Hl States." 
He received the medal some time later from President Monroe. 

After the treaty was made the famous general was offered the posiliouol' Sec- 
retary of War in President Madison's Cabinet, but he declined becaus'e he was too 
young. He was then asked to take it until Mr. Crawford should come l)ack from 
Paris, but he again refused out of respect to General Brown and General Jackson, 
who were older than he, and whose longer service made them more deserving of 
the post ; for under the President the Secretary of War has the control of the 
whole United States Army. 

Then he was sent on a mission to Europe to attend to some diplomatic service 
and some military matters, and after doing both well he returned, married, and, 
for a time, led a quiet military life. 

In 1832 he was sent out to the Northwestern frontier durmg the outbreak of 
the Sac Indians, but this trouble— often called the Black Hawk War, from the 
name of the chief of the tribe — was settled before he reached the field. So he had 
no need to show his valor. But when the cholera broke out among liis troops on the 
way, he showed another side of his nature that was more beautiful than all the 



164 0}ie Hundred Famous Americans. 

tlash and g-iUaiitry at Niagara. He not only made all the provision for his sick 
mt'ii. securing- comfort to those Avho Avere down and g-uarding- ag-ainst the spread 
of the disease, but lie was head nurse lujuself. Every day he visited and comforted 
the sufferers, cheered and encom^aged the others, and by his words and example 
inspired the well men with hope and courag-e while the scourg-e kept on sweeping- 
tiirough the ranks. 

In that same year, after he had brought his command safely back to Washing- 
ton. President Jackson sent him to Charleston wuth the difficult and delicate task 
of keeping- order and maintaining- the power of the Government against the nulli- 
liers of South Carolina. This he did with so much tact, prudence, and firmness 
that his errand was perfectly successful. 

In June, 1841, General Macomb died and General Scott became Commander- 
in-Chief of the United States Army. Five years after, the war with Mexico began. 
In the second year Scott took command of the field in the South himself, and m 
all the difficult campaigns with the crafty enemy, his skill in strategy was equal 
to his gallanti-y in open battle. He forced the surrender of Vera Cruz and the 
stout castle of San Jiuin d' Ulloa, attacked Cerro Gordo in the next month, and 
took that great mountain stronghold from its fifteen thousand men commanded 
by tlie great Santa Anna himself. Tlien, during August and September, he 
worked his way toward the capital, fighting and winning the battles of Churu- 
l)usc(), Molino del Rej^, and Chapultepec, and on the morning of September 14th, 
triumphantly leading his army into the great fortress of the country, the city of 
Mexico, garrisoned as it was by a large force, and surrounded by walls and broad 
lakes. 

He had not reached the city by the reg-ular roads — too many forts had been 
built upon them — but he had his men cut out a new road for themselves so that they 
went around the enemy, and came into the valley where the city lay, at a point 
wlu-re it was not defended. After their march down the mountain-side the first 
lighting began about ten miles from the city, and during that great day, the 20th 
of ^August, the American general won five victories, one after another, and 
chased almost the whole of the Mexican force— three times as large as that of the 
Americans — inside the walls of the capital. Santa Anna sent out proposals for 
peace, and Scott agreed, but after three weeks had passed and they were not yet 
hrought to a close, he found that his enemies were only using the time to put the 
city under better defenses, so he broke off the peace arrangements and renewed 
the war. First Chapultepec, a strong castle upon the top of a very steep hill, was 
taken in spite of the most determined resistance, and then the whole of the Amer- 
ican Army moved around to a side of the city where no attack had been expected. 
Two of the gates were taken before night, and \\\v next morning Scott with his 



W/iifif'ld Scott. 165 

army, now much reduced, marched through the main street and at seven o'clock 
the American flag- was floating- over the National Palace. During the nig-ht 
Santa Anna and his men had fled, so this ended the regular lighting of the Mexi- 
can War ; and after all the difficulties of the treaty were settled and the papers 
were signed, on the 2d of Februar}^, 1848, the American forces left the capital 
and returned to the United States. 

Scott was covered with glory. Many people would have had him President 
at the next election, hut the Whig party was not powerful then, and Franklin 
Pierce, the Democrat, received the larger vote. He had already been honored 
and promoted to the highest degree, so now a new office, that of lieutenant-gen- 
eral, was created and bestowed upon him, and limited to last no longer than his life. 

But Scott was a peacemaker as well as a soldier. Four times he made peace 
upon the United States borders, and when his native State and many of his old 
friends and comrades were doing all in their power to bring on the Civil War, he 
threw the whole weight of his influence in favor of maintaining the Union. He 
saw that Washington was well garrisoned and Lincoln was protected on his going 
to the city for his inauguration ; but when the war opened, he asked to be placed 
on the retired list, for he was now sev^enty-five years old. 

He left the service with full pay, and as the most honored soldier in tlie coun- 
try, who, though valiant in battle, was a lover of peace, though bold as a lion in 
the fray, was yet a gentleman to his enemies and as tender as a father of his men. 
In war, he would never lead a reckless charge and put a single man uselessly 
in danger. He called that murder. He always shared the hardships of his 
men, and set them the example of being- unselflsh as well as daring. Yet he was 
very severe in army discipline. He had learned, himself, that a good soldier must 
be careful, obedient, and unflinching, and he required that all his men should be 
true to their calling. 

No man who ever did a mean thing to General Scott found him returning- the 
evil. He was open-hearted forgiving, frank and manly with all. Beside his high 
moral virtues he was a religious man and an earnest advocate of temperance. 

After his retirement, feeling that his long life of hard work was now over, he 
started for Europe to seek rest and change. But he had scarcely landed when the 
news reached him of the boarding of the British vessel Trent by the officers of the 
American war-vessel San Jacinto and the capture of the Confederate messengers. 
Mason and Slidell. This affair seemed likely to bring on another war with England ; 
so General Scott returned at once to America, to be here in case his counsel or ser- 
vices should be needed. Fortunately the wise management of Secretary Seward 
checked the anger of England, and the " affair of the Trerit," as it is called, had 
no bad results. 



i(i(i One Hundred Fatuous Americans. 

Tlie rest of his life the venerable general passed <iiiietly with his family and 
fiiends. 

Wintielcl Scott was born at Petersburg, Virginia, June 13, 1786. He died at 
West Point, New Yoi-k, May 29, 180(5. 

Stephen Decatur became a famous naval hero in our little Tripolitan 
war. At tlie beginning of this century there were many American vessels upon 
the seas, carrying goods to all parts of the world ; and they had to share the fate of 
the ships of other nations from the pirates of the Mediterranean Sea. For several 
of the [Mohammedan States upon the northern shore of Africa — Tripoli, Tunis, 
Algeria, and ]\Iorocco— made a business of robbing all the passing merchant ves- 
sels they could catch— unless they were well paid for letting them alone. 

After the Americans had made peace with England they began to think about 
the ri<//if of paying robbers to let them alone. So, in 1803, when Tripoli asked 
lor a larger sum than usual, it was refused. Of coiu-se the angry little State 
began at once to capture our vessels, thinking to bring us to terms. But still 
Pi-esident Jefferson refused, and, instead of the money, he sent out the little Ameri- 
can navy of gunboats. Among the other officers Avas Stephen Decatur, then first 
lieutenant on board the Argus. He was only about twenty-three years old, but 
1 1.' hud l)een in the navy four years and liad already become known as a brave and 
skillful officer, with a talent for managing men as well as ships. 

A Iter the little squadron had been in the Mediterranean for some time, the Phil- 
adelphia, in some way, got aground in the harbor of Tripoli, and was captured. 
Decat ur asked pei-mission of the commander. Commodore Preble, to trj' to get, her 
batk. This, the chief said, could not be done, but after awhile he told Decatur 
that he might go and burn the frigate so that the Tripolitans could never use hei". 
The lirutenant set ai)out his task at once. 

The Intrepid, a small boat, was made ready, twenty men were ])ifked out of 
the scpiadron's crew ; and, one calm, dark night, under Decatur's command, the 
paity set out on their perilous errand. 

The Philadelphia Avas a good-sized frigate, carrying forty guns, and now she 
was surrounded with other gunboats and batteries, ready to fire on the Americans at 
any moment. Decatur managed to enter the harbor and get alongside of the Phila- 
dt'Jphid before the Tripolitans knew that the peaceable-looking little vessel was 
maimed by the hated "Americanoes." Then they raised a greatcry and rushed on 
tleck, but it was too late. Decatur and his men were on board, with drawn swords. 
The frightened men of Tripoli were in too great a panic to fight, so in five minutes 
the deck was cleared, and before they regained their senses the ship was in flames 
from stem to stern and the Intrepid was gliding safely out of the harboi-. 



Stephen Decatur. 



167 



For this gallant deed, Decatur was made a captain and presented with a sword 
by Congress. More decided measures were soon taken agamst the power of 




Stephen Decatur. 



the Mediterranean pirates. A land expedition attacked them on the easterly side, 
while the town was also bombarded from the harbor, and Decatur, with three 



Igg One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Aiuerioan p-unboats, liad a desjHM-ate fi^ht with nine of the enemy's vessels. He 
succeeded in capturing- two of them, i)y a close and sharp conflict. Just after- 
the first one was taken, he -heard that his brother, James Decatur, had boarded 
another ship whose connnander had pretended to surrender, and had been treach- 
erously slain by the enemy. Calling- to his men to follow, he rushed on board of 
the murderer's vessel, seized the treacherous connnander and killed him in a 
deadly- hand-to-hand strug-gle. Decatur's men, following close upon him, had 
surrounded him in the fight and beaten back the Tripolitans that tried to force 
their way to the relief of their chief. One, more successful than the others in elud- 
ing- the Amei-icans' swords, was just aiming a fatal blow at Decatur, wiien one of 
his followers, who had lost the use of both arms, rushed up and received the blow 
intended for Decatur on his own he;ul. 

Several attacks were now matle upon Tripoli by Commodore Preble, in each of 
•vN'hich Decatur took an active part. His name, it is said, became a terror all along- 
the Barbary coast, and helped to frigiiten the Bey or chief of the State into mak- 
ing peace the next 3'ear, when he heard that he was coming- to attack him ag-ain 
as one of the leading commanders of a still larger force than Preble's. 

During the seven years of peace that followed the Tripolitan War, Decatur was 
put in command of a squadron in Chesapeake Bay and a little later of the frigate 
Chesapeake ; and now, although he was only twenty-eight years old, he received 
the rank and title of commander in the navy. 

When the War of 181'2 broke out, he was already guarding the entrance to the 
Chesapeake Bay. In this squadron Avere the celebrated frigates the Congress, 
the Wasp, the Nautilus, and the United States, his own flag-ship. 

His first act after the outbreak was to capture the English fj-igate, tJie Mace- 
donia, for which Congress voted him a gold medal. The vessel, with the 
United States, her captor, was taken to New York and fitted up for an expedition 
in the open sea, for which Decatur started when both were ready. He intended to 
get to sea through the Narrows, past Staten Island, but finding the way blockaded 
by the British cnusers, he ran through Long Island Sound, only to find that also 
blockaded at the opening to the sea. Thus hemmed in, he was obliged to wail 
for over a year. 

At last he gave up all hopes of getting out with such large vessels as the Uwi.ted 
States and the Macedonia, so he fitted up a light, swift-sailing vessel, the Pirusi- 
dent, and started out of New York Bay, hoping in the darkness of the night to 
rim past tlie British cruisers without being seen. But his pilot ran the vessel on 
the bar, where it was pounded by the waves for about two hours and so badly 
strained that when he did get off he could only turn around and start back for 
repairs. But she did not get back. A big British cruiser spied the little Presi- 



Stephen Decatur. IBS' 

dent and poured its fire into her. She could not g-et away, and the commodore 
feared slie had but poor cliances in firing- back. But tlie g-unners aimed well and 
the British cruiser was so badly dainag-ed that she was oblig-ed to move away. 
Three others, however, came up, and Decatur was oblig-ed to pull down his flag-.. 
The captured President was taken over to Bermuda, but in about a month peace 
was declared and Decatur returned to New York. 

While our Government was busy with Eng-land, the Dey of Alg-iers — seeming- 
not to think of how affairs between America and his neighbors of Tunis and Tripoli 
had ended — employed some of his ships in seizing- our merchant vessels and holding- 
Americans in slavery ; but he did not keep it up long- after the Great Britain 
affairs were settled. Three months after Decatur returned to New York from. 
Bermuda, he was at the head of a squadron bound for Alg-eria. In a montli he 
passed the straits of Gibraltar, and captured two of the Alg-erine squadron. He 
then pushed on to the State and soon convinced the Dey that the best thing- he- 
could do would be to sig-n a treaty promising- never to molest American ships; 
again, and to restore at once all the Americans he held as captives. 

After the treaty was sig-ned the Alg-erine Prime Minister turned to the Bi-itish 
Consul and said : " You told us that the Americans would be swept from the seas 
in six months by your na\'j^, and now they make war upon us with some of your 
own vessels." This showed Decatur that England had been encouraging- the,- 
Dey's operations against us. 

From here the commodore went to Tunis and Tripoli, and demanded a debt of 
damag-es from each of them, in return for the injury they had done to our ship- 
ping- during- the war. Decatur's name even, without his presence, carried fear' 
into all the Barbary States, and the demands were paid, thoug-h very unwillingly,, 
as soon as it was known who made them. " I know this admiral," said the Bey 
of Tunis. " He is the one who burnt the Philadelphia. "Why do they send such, 
wild young men to treat for peace with old powers ? " 

The work accomplished by Decatur caused the whole of Europe to respect the 
naval power of the United States. They had done what none of the old navies 
dared to attempt. They had put a stop to the piracies of the Barbary States, 
and were the means of freeing- the ships of Europe as well as America from their 
robberies and from the heavy taxes they had demanded from all nations foi- many 
years. 

After Decatur returned home, in the fall of 1815, there were no more war 
troubles to settle, and he held the office of Navy Commissioner for five years,, 
until his death, which occurred in a duel with James Barron, a naval officer. It 
had once been Decatur's duty, as member of a court-martial, to try Commodore- 
Barron for misconduct. From that time he imag-ined that Decatur was his per- 



170 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

isonal enemy, and insisted upon challeng-ing- him to a duel, which in those days no 
man considered it honorable to decline. 

Stephen Decatur was born at Sinnepuxent, Maryland, January 5, 1779. He 
died at Bladensbur--, Maryland, March 'Z'Z, 1820. 

( )ne of the midshipmen on the Adams of the fleet first sent to make peace 
with the Barbary States was Oliver Hazard Perry, then a young- man sev- 
enteen years of agv. He belong-ed to a seafaring- family. His fatlier was a cap- 
tain in the navy of tlie Revolution, who had disting-uished himself in several en- 
g-ag-ements, and all of his four brothers became officers in the United States 
Navy, and did excellent service in the War of 1812. 

A midshipman has not a very important part in the battles of his ship, but 
\ oung- Perry made the most of his chances in the Mediterranean. He had already" 
been on a vessel under his father's command and had obtained some experience in 
sea -fighting- a few years before, during- the threatened war with France, when 
oiil Captain Christopher R. Perry, in command of the General Oreene, had most 
successfully obe3'^ed orders to disperse a nest of French cruisers at the West Indies. 

Young- Perry's good qualities were soon noted ; before long- he was promoted, 
and by the time he was twenty-one he reached the rank of lieutenant. Shortly 
after this, the prospects of a second war with Eng-land became very clear, and 
Perry was sent to the navy yards at Newport to overlook the building- of seven- 
teen g-unboats. When they were finished, they were called into immediate use, 
and he was told to take charg-e of them and station his fleet around New York to 
jirotect our trading-vessels from the French and Eng-lish, who were at war at the 
time and were inchned to treat the young- American nation with contempt. France 
was rather unfriendly to us yet, because the Government refused to take her part 
in the European war, about sixteen years after the Revolution. Matters were 
better now than they had been, but there were still a g-ood many annoyances, from 
time to time. 

]n about 1808 Perry was employed to attend to the building- of more vessels, 
and after that he was put in charg-e of the Revenge and a squadron of smaller 
\essels ordered to cruise along- the Atlantic coast. The troubles that finally 
brought on the war were gi'owing- every month, and a g-ood fleet under able com- 
mand was needed all along- our shores to protect American merchant vessels from 
th«*» British ci-uisers. One day an order came to the commander of the Revenge 
U) do sonietliing- more than cruise up and down. The American merchantman 
Diana, which belonged to some private citizens of the United States, had been 
carried off by an Englishman and put under British colors. Perry's orders 
were to find and capture her. He soon found out where she was stationed, and. 



Oliver Hazard Perry. 



171 



collecting- his forces, boldly sailed up and took possession of her. The Eng-lish- 
men fumed and fired their g'uns, hut Perry stood their smoke and shell, and tri- 
umphantly carried off his prize. 

After this the Eng-lish cruisers grew more and more insolent. At last they 
began to board all vessels carrying the American flag, and, by what they called 




Oliver Hazard Perry. 

a " right of search," carry off all the British-born sailors they could find and put 
them into their own service, claiming that he who had been a British subject once 
must always be. Then some of the leaders in Congress declared that we were 
having a peace that was like war, and roused the nation to a second resistance 
against royal tyranny. 

War was declared against Great Britain June 18, 1812, and although the 



172 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

news reached Perry soon after his wedding-day, he hastoniMl to Washington and 
asked for a place in the navy. He was promised the first one that coukl he pre- 
piireil lor an officer of his rank. Our navy was then in a very g-ood condition ; we 
had a number of new vessels and a valiant corps of marines. Perry was soon put 
in connnand of a flotilla to defend Newport. His rank was now master com- 
mandant, a good post ; buu there was little to be done her(>, and Perry was very 
anxious to l)(> in the thickest of the fight. So, in the next February, he was- 
ordered to Lake Erie to build two brigs and take command of a fleet to engage 
the British vessels already on the lake. 

Before his vessels were ready he was invited to assist Commodore Chauncey 
ill making an attack on Fort George. His little boat arrived at the commo- 
dore's ship just before the battle. He struck in at once, and, seeing that the 
order of the battle had been very poorly planned, his great desire was to fill up 
the gaps. He seemed to be everywhere just when needed, in fighting, in direct- 
ing attacks, and in inspiring the men. The British were successfully driven out, 
and in the pride of his victory. Commodore Chauncey did not hesitate to say that 
it was largely Captain Perry's work that had won the day. 

Before long the new squadron was finished and equipped, and lay, ready for 
action, in Put-in Bay. * Soon the expected enemy was sighted near the town of 
Sandusky. There were six vessels with a fighting force of over sixty guns and 
five hundred men. Perry with his nine vessels had about the same number of 
men, but only fifty-four guns, whose range was much shorter than the British 
cannon. When they met, this gave the English the advantage for awhile, and 
Perry's flag-ship was badly damaged. He was obliged to leave it, and in the 
thick of the fight, with smoke of powder filling the air, and shots flying all about 
him, he took an open boat to the Niagara, half a mile away. Then, with all the 
smaller vessels close together, he bore down upon the British, opening a fire that 
in seven minutes compelled the siirrender of their flag-ship, which was quickly 
followed by three more. The other two tried to run away, but were overtaken; 
and captured in a little over an hour. This closed the battle of Lake Erie, for 
which the 10th of October, 1813, will always he a memorable date in American 
history. It was a brilliant victory. That three hours of fighting cleared 
the Northwest of a powerful branch of the enemy's forces. As soon as the 
conflict was decided, Perry seized a scrap of paper, and, resting it on his hat, 
wrote to headciuarters : " We have met the enemy, and they are ours— two ships, 
two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop." 

This victory was of great importance ; it gave the Americans complete con- 
trol of the lakes and was the chief step toward closing the war in the West. 
Congress was delighted with the conquest. Perry and Elliot, one of his officers. 



Oliver Hazard Perry. 173 

were rewarded with gold medals, while other honors were bestowed upon some of 
the lesser officers who had shown specially gallant conduct. 

After the British were driven out of the West, and the war in that section 
drew to a close, Perry was given another command in the South, upon the Java, 
a new frigate just finished at Baltimore. But this was shut up in the bay by 
a British squadron, which finally began to ascend the Potomac. Perry was 
instantly called to take charge of a fort and fire upon them as they passed. But 
they had a good place and kept it, hemming in the Java, while her commander 
employed his time fitting out other ships, until the war was over. 

In the Algeria trouble, which had to be settled as soon as the treaty with 
England was signed. Perry, in the Java, followed Decatur to the Mediterranean, 
where he helped the gallant hero of the Tripolitan War to force the rest of the 
Barbary pirates to promise to let American ships alone without being paid for it. 

Among the many deeds of Perry's noble-heartedness and courage, there is one 
that occurred after his return from the Mediterranean, which filled his country- 
men with greater admiration than even the victory of Lake Erie. There he had 
his country's freedom and his own glory to spur him on. But this deed was only 
in ajiswer to a call of duty, which many men woidd never have heard. His vessel 
lay in Newport Harbor in the winter of 1818. One bitterly cold night, during a 
fearful storm, word was brought that a merchant vessel had been driven on a 
reef, six miles away. As soon as Perry heard it, he called out to his men to man 
his barge, and, in that inspiring voice which had so often cheered the battle ranks 
when hope was wavering, rang out the shout, " Come, my boys, we are going to 
the relief of shipwrecked seamen ; pull away ! " Out in the face of the bitter 
storm and over the surging sea they went. They made toward the reef, and 
found a quarter-deck of the wreck floating upon the angry waves, with eleven 
half-dead men clinging to her timbers. The poor fellows were rescued and taken 
back to care, to comfort, and to life. 

The pirates of the Barbary States were not the only robbers that harassed 
American ships. There was a swarm of them in the West India seas that an- 
noyed and even injured our commerce very seriously, and in the spring Perry 
was put in command of a squadron and ordered to whip the troublesome thieves, 
and then go to the Caribbean Sea and pay the respects of his nation to the new 
republics along the coast. He reached the South, but had only been there a short 
time, and had not yet fulfilled his commission before he died of the yellow fever, 
which was then spreading through his squadron. 

Oliver H. Perry was born at South Kingston, Rhode Island, August 23, 1785 ; 
he died on his thirty-fourth birthda^^, 1819, on board the John Adams, just as 
she was entering the harbor of Port Spain, in the West India island of Trinidad. 



174 One Hundred Famons Americans. 

The commander of tlie famous expedition to Japan which induced the Govern- 
ment to form a conmiercial treaty with the United States and opened the way for 
all the civilized world into the hermit nations of the East, was not the hero of Lake 
Erie, but his youn^jrer brother, Matthew Calbraltli Perry. He, too, was a 
commodore and a naval hero of a good tleal of importance. He became a lieuten- 
ant during- the War of 1812, successfully captured a number of West India pirates 
in tlie sea-thieving- times that followed that strug-g-le, and later he proved himself 
a gallant officer in the capture of Vera Cruz. Meanwhile in times of peace he had 
commanded several cruising- squadrons, and had held some uuportant posts in the 
Brooklyn Navy Yard. 

For many years he was one of the first men in the countr\' who looked forward 
lo peacefully forming- a treaty with the rich nation of Japan, and when in 1852 the 
(Toxernment undertook the expedition to secure that much-to-be-desired object, 
( 'onnnodore Perry — his celebrated brother had died long- before — was the man to 
i(tmmand it ; for years he had carefully studied the land, the people, and the prob- 
lem of forming- a friendly commei'cial treaty between their nation and our own. 

His squadron arrived in the Bay of Yedo on the 7th of July, 1853, and lay 
thei'e for ten days, letters being- sent to the tycoon, the lieutenant of the milxado, 
or real sovereign of the empire. The next February the fleet returned, and in the 
<'arly part of March the formal papers and agreements between the United States 
and Japan were excliaug-ed in Yokohama, the port of the capital, on the spot where 
llie Union Chi'istian Church now stands. 

Then the commander returned with his fleet; but he lived only a few years 
after his errand was accomplished. The narrative of this most important expedi- 
tion, thoug-h edited by some one else, is almost entirely as Commodore Perry 
wrote it himself, in his journals and other papers. He was a cultivated, scholarly 
man as well as a hero and a hai-dy sailor. 

M. C. Pei-ry was born at South King-ston, Rhode Island, in the yeai- Ul)5. He 
died in New York City, March 4, 1858. 



MILITARY AND NAVAL COMMANDERS OF THE CIVIL WAR, 



ON the 1st of November, 18(J1, when General Scott gave up liLs post as com- 
mander of the armies of the United States, the general appointed to take 
his place was George Briiitoii McClellau. The Civil War had now fully 
beg-mi. Fort Sumter, npon which the first shot had been fired in January, had 
surrendered on the 13th of April, the Southern ports were blockaded by Union 
troops, and serious fig-hting- had already been going- on in West Virginia since 
early in July. 

General McClellan had been the commander of the Union forces in these cn- 
g-ag-ements, and was then the foremost American general in active service. He 
was abont forty years old, a West Point graduate, and a hardy, well-trained sol- 
dier. He had had a good deal of creditable experience in the tield, ha^■ing• i)oen a 
captain in the Mexican War ; he had also done service as a military engineer in 
several parts of the United States, and in 1855 he was sent on the mihtary com- 
mission to the Crimean War in the south of Europe. Although he Avas out of 
army life after that and engaged in railroad building and management, he was still 
a soldier and was among the first Northern officers to take .command wlien the 
Civil War broke out, in the memorable month of March, 1861. At first he be- 
came major-general of the Ohio Volunteers, but in Maj^ he was changed to the 
same rank in the regular army. He began his first active work in Western Vir- 
ginia, fighting several successful battles and soon clearing the field of all the ( *on- 
federate troops. 

On the day after the battle of Bull Run, when the Northern Army under Gen- 
eral Irwin McDowell was defeated by the Confederate forces under General P. T. 
S. Beauregard, McClellan was called to Washington and given command of the 
Army of the Potomac. His first work after this was to drill and organize this 
army, and before the end of the year it was a fine, well-ordered body of one hun- 
dred and fifty thousand men. No great deeds were done during this year, but 
the enemy's lines were steadily pushed back, and the Union men — like the Con- 
feder-ates — were kept very busy fortifying important places. 



176 One Hundred Fanions Americans. 

Five months after this promotion McCIellan was again raised in rank and took 
the place of the ag-ed Commander-in-Chief, Winfield Scott. He still kept charge 
of the Potomac division, which was soon in excellent condition for active work, and 
was moved on towai'd Richmond upon President Lincoln's order that a general 
movement toward action should be made by all the ai'mies, on the 22d of Febru- 
ary. After a month's siege he took Yorktown, Virginia, which was held by the 
(Confederates under Josepli E. Johnston. It was an easy conquest, for the enemy 
left it as soon as the firing began. Johnston fell back towards Richmond and Mc- 
CIellan willingly followed, overtaking him at Williamsburg. This was a battle 
which did not end in a victory for either side, but it enabled Johnston to engage 
t he enemy long enough to get his supplies safely on the way to Richmond, whither 
he followed, pursued by McCIellan as far as the Chickahominy. While the North- 
ern Army was fording this stream a heavy rain came on, swelling it so that it was 
impossible for the rest of the men to get ovei'. He began at once to build bridges 
for the rest of his army to cross upon. He also sent for General McDowell to 
bring him reinforcements, but meanwhile Thomas J. Jackson, another able Con- 
fedei'ate commandei', was making such raids around Washington that McDowell 
had to return with ab(jut ten thousand men to protect the capital. 

This was a fine chance for Johnston, who at once hurried back to the stream to 
have a fight with the division that had crossed and to vanquish them if he could 
befor^^ the others could get over. Before the bridges were finished he was well on 
his way back, and General Stuart, also seeing the Northern commander's plight, 
had ridden around the ariny and torn up the railroad that was to have brought 
McCIellan supplies ; and General Lee, with an army now nearly as large as his 
own, had crossed the Chickahominy without any bridges ; and, with the help of 
Jackson, who had come down from the north, engaged the part of McCIellan \s 
army that had staid on the north side of the stream and were at Mechanicsville. 

The battle here fought was the first of what are called the Seven Days' Bat- 
tles, which forced McClellan's retreat and made him give up the attack on Rich- 
mond, for the time. The night after the battle, he fell back to Gaines' Mills, but 
was overtaken by Lee the next day, when another conflict took place. McCIellan 
did not stop to see who was beaten when night came, but hurried on towards the 
James River, that he might unite his forces. The part that had crossed the 
Chickahominy was still on the other side of the stream ; but they had beaten the 
Confederates — after a long- struggle in which Johnston was wounded. 

Three more battles followed in the next three days, June 29th and 30th and 
July 1st. The last one was at Malvern Hill, very near the James. Lee was 
beaten with heavy loss. Many people thouglit that if McCIellan had followed up 
this victory he might have fought his way on to Richmond. But he felt that 



Oeorge Brinton McClellan. 



177 



without more men he was sure of failure in such an undertaking-. He was anx- 
ious, however, to press on toward the South, and sent many calls for reinforce- 




George Brinton McClellan. 



ments, but the President had no more to spare, and none were sent. So the pen- 
insula campaign was brought to a close. 

There was considerable dissatisfaction about the way in which McClellan had 
ananag-ed this expedition, and, while he was still kept in command of the Potomac 



178 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

division, General Henry W. Hal leek was put in his place as Coinniander-in-Chief. 
So wliile McClellan was anxiously waiting- at Harrison's Landing- I'oi- reinl'orcc- 
ments that he mig-ht g-o on ag-ain to attack Richmond, a new plan was set in mo- 
tion in the North. General Pojie had been sent into Virg-inia, when it was soon 
found that General Lee had sent Jackson up to attack him, and so McClellan re- 
ceived orders to despatch his troops up to the help of Pope. 

This was a g-reat disappointment to McClellan. He thought that the most 
telling blow to the Confederacy could be struck at Richmond, and he felt that if 
he could only receive reinforcements he could strike it. But President Lincoln 
thought otherwise. On the 16th of August the troops began to I'etm-n North. 
When Lee saw them safely away from Richmond he moved on to help Jackson, 
who vanquished Pope at the second l)att]e of Bull Run before McClellan's men 
reached the Held. It has been said that if Genei'al McCk'Uan had pushed his 
troops on quickly, the battle mig-ht have be<;n decided on tlie other side. But all 
this has happened so recently that all the truth may not yet be known about it. 

As soon as the news of Pope's terrible defeat reached him, McClellan hurried 
on to Washing-ton, where he began preparations to defend the city against Lee, 
whom he was afterwai-d sent out to watch and to keep from making any sei-ious 
attacks anywhere. When it was foimd that he was getting i-eady to invade Mary- 
land, McClellan then marched into that State and stopped him at South Moun- 
tain. Here a battle was fought on the 14th of September, which compelled the 
Confederates to change their course. McClellan followed them up and on the 17th 
the g-reat battle of Antietam was fought. McCh^llan was the victor, and if his 
army had not been out of condition for a long march and there had been more 
forces to prevent Lee from getting to Washington, he would have followed up the 
victory in pursuit. But he felt that the risk was too great. His soldiers were badly 
oft" ; they needed supplies of all kinds, mostly clothing, and wanted shoes so much 
that it was very difficult for them to march. McClellan was always very careful of 
his men, and would rather wait and lose some advantage over his enemy than ex- 
pose them to vmnecessary suffering. He sent many messages to Washington 
urging his immediate need of more supplies. The order for them was given, but, 
through some mistake, the shoes and clothing, which were neeck'd most of all, 
wei'e not foi'warded with thi^ rest, but given to tlu; troops ai'ound Washington. 
McClellan could not oi-der- his men to go on in their destitute condition, so they 
were obliged to wait, while everybody was out of patience with his generalship 
because he did not move on. 

Thus, more than a month was wasted, but at last they could go ; in six days 
they made the march from the Potomac to Warrenton, where they were prepared 
to attack Lee for a grand battle for which McClellan had very carefully made 



Ulysses Simpson Grant. 179 

plans all ready. Late at nig-ht on the Tth of November, the day after they reached 
the field, a messenger came into the camp with oi-ders from Washing-ton for him 
to give over his command to General Ambrose E. Burnside, who had brought his 
army to reinforce that of McClellan about four montlis before this time. The 
commander Avas deeply grieved by this message ; but he quietly handed it over 
to Burnside and prepared to '' repair to Trenton, New Jersey," at once, as the order 
directed. The next day he spent detailing to Burnside his plans for the battle and 
advising him aljout the future op('rations. On the 9th he took leave of the sorrowful 
and indignant arm3\ One.of our historians has said it would have needed but an 
encouraging look from McClellan to have started an open revolt against the new 
commander : but he cast his weight of influence the other way. He told them to 
stand by General Burnside as the^^ had stood by him, and all would be well. The 
men followed his words under their new leader, and many of them never lived 
after they heard the order to go into the fatal battle that followed. 

McClellan went at once to Trenton and took no further part in the war. Many 
people thought and some historians now state that this was but right, as the gen- 
eral had let valuable time and good chances go by, while delaying to obey orders ; 
but thei-e are also many people wlio feel that he was unfairly treated in the mat- 
ter of both supplies and forces, and that there were personal enemies among the 
officers, who, to advance themselves, placed McClellan in an unfavorable light with 
the President and Secretary Stanton. At an\' rate lie was still popular Avith a 
large party of the War Democrats, and was nominated by them for the Presidency 
at the close of Lincoln's first term. 

The four >-ears that followed the war he spent in Eiu^ope, and aft^r his return 
he was Superintendent of Docks and Piers in New York City for a long time. In 
1877 he was made Governor of New Jersey, and the latter years of his life were 
spent on a country-seat on the brow of the rocky New Jers<'y hills, called Orange 
Mountain, 

George B. McClellan was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, December .3, 
1826. He died at Orange, New Jersey, October 28, 1885. 

The first real victory of the Union Army was the capture of Fort Donelson, on 
the 12th of February, 1802. Ulysses Simpson Grant was the leader of the 
charge. He was then commander of the smaller division of the two Northern 
armies, that were having hard work to hold their own against the long line of 
Albert Sidney Johnston's Confederate forces through Kentucky and Tennessee. 
Scarcely any one outside of the army had ever heard of him before. Now he was 
on the high-road — built by courage, determination, and ability — whicli leads to 
greatness. 



180 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

He had been well educated, and was particularly g-ood in mathematics ; and al- 
though he was not a real brilliant scholar, one of his teachers once said : "If the 
country ever hears of any of these students, it will be from young Grant." He 
graduated from West Point three years after General McClellan, at the age of 
twenty-one, and was placed in a regiment that was soon stationed in Missouri. 

After about two years the regiment was ordered to join General Taylor's army 
in the Mexican War, and Grant's first battle was at Palo Alto, May 8, 1846. 
Soon after, in the conflict of Molino del Rey, he fought so bravely that he was 
raised to the rank of lieutenant. Five days later, in Colonel Garland's account of 
the battle of Chapultepec, he said to his superior officer: "I must not fail to call 
attention to Lieutenant Grant, of the Foui'th Infantry, who acquitted himself most 
nobly upon several occasions under my own observation." Lieutenant Grant was 
made a captain at once. 

After the Mexican War he married and settled on a farm near St. Louis. His 
farming was not a success, so he took up the real estate business, which was little 
l)etter, so that he finally went back to his old home at Point Pleasant, in Ohio, and 
went to work in his father's tannery. But when the war broke out he returned to 
the army at once. He said : " The Government lias educated me for the army. 
What I am I owe to my country. I have served liei' through one war, and live or 
die I will serve her through this." Still he was not fond of fighting, for he wrote, 
some time after the outbreak : " I never went into battle willingly or Avith enthusi- 
asm. I was always glad when a battle was over, I take no interest in armies. 
When I resigned, after the Mexican War, and went to the farm, I was happy. 
When the Rebellion came I returned to the service because it was a duty." 

He was made captain of a compan^^ of Illinois volunteers at first, but in a few 
mor.ths he was raised to the rank of brigadier-general and placed in command of 
the troops at Caii-o, Illinois, one of the posts against Johnston's strong military 
lines. On September Otli, he took the town of Paducah, at the mouth of the Ten- 
nessee ; on the 25th he captured Smithland, at the mouth of the Cumberland River. 
Then, after about six weeks, he gained another battle at Belmont, during which 
his horse was sliot from under him. Aftei- tliat he was placed in command of the 
district of Cairo, one of the chief military divisions in the Southwest. In the early 
part of the second year of the war, with the assistance of Commodore Foote, Grant 
captured Fort Henry, and ten days after he took Fort Donelson after a severe 
fight. Befoi-e this last captui-e the Confederate officer in command — who began 
to have some dread of the steady, determined way the Cairo commander pushed 
ahead — proposed to General Grant to have some commissioners appointed to 
arrange terms of sun-ender. Grant replied : " No other terms than an un- 
conditional and immediate surrender can be accepted. I propose to move im- 



Ulysses Siuipson Grant. 



181 



mediately upon your works ; ' ' and he did. These operations were beginning to look 
like successful warfare ; the gallant leader was made major-general, and from that 
time forward his movements were carefully watched b^' the President, the Secre- 
tary of War, and the whole nation. 

Soon after this, General Halleck's death left a large force without a com- 




Ulysses Simpson Grant. 



mander and Grant was put in the place. The time had now come for bold, prompt 
action, and this was the man the countiy needed. At daybreak on the 6th of April, 
the Confederates surprised a portion of his forces near Corinth and drove the 
Northerners out of their camp with heavy loss. General Grant arrived on the field 
at eight o'clock, and instantly set to work to I'eform the broken lines, and with the 



182 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

help of fresh troops drove the enemy back. This so pleased the authorities at 
Washington that another department was added to his command at once. 

After a quiet summer antl a busy fall, with the victory at luka, Mississippi, on 
September 3d and 4th, another at Corinth in the fii'st week of October, and with 
his command much enlarg-ed, he began planning to take Vicksburg-, " the Gibraltar 
of the Mississippi." The first attempt failed, but this only made him more deter- 
mined to take it final l.y. He first cleared the surrounding field, and then on the 18th 
of May, 1863, he laid siege to the place, keeping it up for two months, till the city 
surrendered. 

Grant was then promoted to the rank of major-general in the regular army, 
and in October he was given command of a still lai'ger division, having under him 
General Sherman, General Thomas, General Burnside, and General Hooker. On 
the 24th and 25th of the next month he fought and gained the terrible battles of 
Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain near Chattanooga, part of which was 
fought above the clouds. For this victory he was awarded a g-old medal b^^ Con- 
gress and resolutions of thanks were passed by some of the State Legislatures. 
Congress also passed a bill reviving" the rank of lieutenant-general of the army, 
which was once before created for General Scott and g-ave control of the whole 
armj' to one man. As soon as the bill was passed President Lincoln appointed 
General Grant to the office and called him to Washing-ton to I'eceive his commis- 
sion. 

He now had the control of the entire army and at once began planning- to strike 
at the two vital points of the enemy, Atlanta and Richmond. He sent Sherman to 
Atlanta, and on May 3d started, himself, for Richmond. 

But between him and Richmond stood Genei-al Lee, who was almost as great a 
soldier as himself, and was firmly resolved not to let him pass. Before Grant had 
g-one very far the two armies met and fought the terrible battle of the Wilderness. 
After losing many of his men Grant found that Lee could not be overcome, but, 
instead of turning back, he marched around the wing of the Confederate Army, 
and ivent on. Lee quickly turned and stopped him again at Spottsylvania, where 
another bloody battle w^as fought without a victory for either side. 

Again Grant passed around Lee's army and marched on. " I propose to fight 
it out on this line if it takes all summer," he wrote to Washington. At North 
Anna River he found Lee ag-ain in his way, but another " flank movement " and he 
was on his way again. The same thing was repeated at Cold Harbor and still the 
cry was " On to Richmond I " 

Meanwhile the people began to murmur that the g-eneral was winning- no more 
battles, and Secretary Stanton talked sei-iously with the President about his retain- 
ing Grjint in command. But Lincoln said, " I rather like the man. I guess we'll 



Ulysses Simpson Grant. 183 

try him awhile longer." So Grant kept on his way, reached Petersburg- by the 
middle of June, and began the siege. This was an important post, about twenty 
miles from Richmond ; it v/as too strongly fortified to be taken by assault, and was 
well garrisoned, for it held Lee's forces. Both armies were kept at work during 
that siege, Lee's in making defenses. Grant's in forcing his enemy ; but on the 2d 
of April in the next year he burst his way through Lee's long line of entrench- 
ments and forced him to retreat. Lee moved westward, and Grant, following 
closely, overtook him at Appomattox, where seven days after the capture of Peters- 
burg, he surrendered the remainder of his army. He signed the articles and 
handed General Grant his sword, but the conqueror quickly returned it with the 
courtesy of a true gentleman. He forbade any signs of rejoicing among his men. 
''The rebels are our countrymen again," he said. He ordered rations to be dis- 
tributed among them, and told them to take their horses home, for they would 
need them for the spring plowing. 

The spirit of good-will w^as seen everywhere. Union men and Confederates 
mingled together, enjoying rest after the long years of work, and rejoicing in the 
thoughts of peace and the opportunity of retui-ning home, when suddenly all was 
changed into sadness and division by the terrible news of Lincoln's murder. 

The Vice-President, Andrew Johnson, then became President and another spirit 
prevailed throughout the country. He began almost immediately to say that " the 
rebels must be punished ;" so he ordered Secretary Stanton to arrest the leaders 
of the Confederacy. The moment General Grant heard of this he jumped on his 
horse, galloped to Secretary Stanton's office, and asked if any such orders had 
been issued. 

' ' I have issued writs for the arrest of all the prominent rebels, and officers will 
be despatched on the mission soon," replied the Secretary. 

General Grant appeared cool, although he was very much excited, and quickly 
said : " Mr. Secretary, when General Lee surrendered to me at Appomattox, I gave 
him my word of honor that neither he nor any of his followers would be disturbed 
so long as they obeyed their parole of honor. I have learned nothing to cause me 
to believe that any of them have broken their promises, and have come here to 
make you aware of that fact, and would also suggest that these orders be can- 
celled." 

Secretary Stanton became terribly angry, and said : " General Grant, are you 
aware whom you are talking to ? I am the Secretary of War." 

Quick as a flash General Grant answered back : "And I am General Grant. 
Issue those orders at your peril ! " The orders were not issued. 

When President Johnson heard of this, he summoned General Grant and told 
him that he wished the army to be emplo^^ed to arrest the members of the rebel 



184 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

administration, the rebel Congress, and rebel State g-overnments, as well as the 
rebel army and naval officers. "I intend to hang- every mother's son of them," 
said he, 

" I will not employ the army for any such purpose," replied General Grant,^ 
" nor will I let it be employed for any such purpose." 

" But," said Johnson, " I am, by the Constitution, Commander-in-Chief. What 
will 3'ou do if I g"ive you such orders ? " 

" Disobey them," quietly rejoined Grant, " and state my reasons to Cong-ress- 
and the country. The soldiers of the South accepted my parole, whicli, by the 
laws of war and of the United States, I was authorized to give. It guaranteed 
that they should not be molested if they laid down their arms, went home, and 
obeyed the laws. They did so. I will stand by that parole, and the first court- 
martial you order may be one to try me, for I will not issue such orders to the 
army ; but I will g-ive the word of command against them." 

Johnson saw that General Grant was too firm to be moved, and he also knew 
that it would be very unwise for him to persist, for just now the people would side 
with the hero, against hunself, Stanton, and all the rest of his Cabinet, for Grant 
was very popular. Still he was determined to carry out his plans, so he resolved 
to get Grant out of the way, and arranged to send him off on a foreign mission. 
But the general saw through this proposal and quietly refused the appointment. 
So the matter had to be given up and the nation was saved the disg-race of hang- 
ing- its citizens for doing- what seemed to them right, although in another light it 
was treason to the Government. 

If Grant had not thus firmly kept his promise, even at the risk of being court- 
martialed and deprived of his position, it would have scarcely been possible to 
have broug-ht about a peaceful settlement between the North and the South ; and 
the Federal Union, for which more men foug-ht than for anti-slavery, might have 
been broken forever. 

At the next election. General Grant was made President, and almost his first 
words to the people were, " Let us have peace." As a thoughtful and wise states- 
man he did a great deal to promote a united feeling- throughout the country and 
to have the new arrangements bring- about a common interest in the nation as a 
whole. At the end of his first term he was cordially re-elected and was about as 
popular as ever at the close of the next four years. Many were even in favor of 
having him for a third term. 

But he had made mistakes. Too often he believed other people as honest as 
himself, and his loyalty to his friends made him refuse to credit anything against 
them. Some of his counsellors, who were shrewd and dishonest, took advantage 
of this, traded upon his confidence, and brought his administration into disrepute. 



Ulysses Simpson Grunt. 185- 

After the close of his second term, General Grant left pubhc life forever. The 
remainder of his years was spent in a long traveling tour with his friends and 
family-, and in business. At home and abroad he received a great many honors, 
and when trouble came upon him in business, the highest tokens of loving re- 
gard were paid him by his countrymen and his friends in foreign lands. 

He was never known to talk much. While he was President he made no 
long speeches as most of the others had done upon grand occasions, and people 
thought he was no speaker. But he could talk well. At a great dinner at Ham- 
burg, Germany, where the American Consul referred to him as the man Avho had 
saved the Union, Grant's reply is considered one of the finest speeches iii our 
language : " If our country could be saved or ruined," he said, " hy the efforts of 
one man we sliould no more have a country; there are many men who would have 
done far better than I did under the circumstances. If I had never held command ; 
if I had fallen ; if all our generals had fallen, there were ten thousand behind us 
who would have done our woi'k just as well, who Avould have followed tlie contest 
to the end and never surrendered the Union. We did our work as well as we 
could, and so did thousands of others. We deserve no credit for it, for we should 
have been unworthy of our country and of the American name if we had not made 
every sacrifice for the Union. What saved the Union was the coming forward of 
the young men of the nation. The humblest soldier who carried a musket Is en- 
titled to as much credit for the result of the war as those who were in command." 

One of the countries visited by Grant was Mexico. He was much interestetl 
in it, and thought that if railroads could be built connectmg the interior with the 
United States, it would be a very valuable neighbor, for it would want to buy 
many of our manufactures, and would sell us many tropical products cheaper tlian 
we could buy them at other places. He laid this before the nation on his return 
and through his influence the Mexican railroads were built. The very last year- 
of his life was clouded by a terrible business failure, which came through the dis- 
honesty of his partner, and swept away money borrowed by him for the partner- 
and all his own fortune, except a gift from New York that could not be touched. 
He did all in his power to repair the loss, and even when overtaken with an incura- 
ble disease, kept steadily at work writing a book and many magazine articles 
about the war. The publishers paid very large prices for these articles and 
memoirs, and in spite of great suffering and growing weakness he labored steadily 
on till the work was finished which would pay his debts and provide for his wife 
as long as she lives. 

General Grant was born in Point Pleasant, Ohio, April 27, 1822. He died at 
Mount McGregor, near Saratoga, New York, July 23, 1885. 



186 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Just before General Grant went to Washing-ton to receive the g-reat commission 
of Lieutenant-General of the Army, he wrote to William Tecuinseh Sherman, 

saying-: "It is to 3^011 and to General McPherson, above all others, to whom 1 
feel indebted for whatever I have had of success." 

General Sherman was another of the West Point graduates wiio took part hi 
the Seminole War in Florida and then in the great Civil War, For two 3^ears 
before lytil he was Superintendent of the Louisiana Military School at Alexandria, 
and when the conflict began, he went to Washington, hoping to help make the 
g-reat preparations he felt we should need before it was over. But the authorities 
at the capital did not foresee the terrible extent of the struggle, and his advice and 
services about making- ready w^ere not accepted. He then became a colonel in the 
infantry, and commanded a brigade in General McDowell's army at the first bat- 
tle of Bull Run. 

He had little active work during- the first year, but in the next March he ob- 
tained command of a division in General Grant's Army of the Tennessee, and 
marched with his chief to Pittsburg- Landing, and there fought under him in the 
terrible battle of Shiloh. All throug-h those two days of strife, his coolness, 
energ\", and skill never failed, although three horses w^re shot under him, and he 
was wounded in the hand. Grant said : " The first day, with raw troops, Sherman 
held the key-point of the Landing-, and it is to his own efforts that I am indebted 
for the success of that battle." Two weeks later he led the advance upon Cornith, 
which the. enemy left after a month's siege. 

Meanwhile he was raised to the post of major-g*eneral. The events of war in 
this part of the country now moved on at a rapid rate, and General Sherman did 
many excellent services to the Northern side in the battles that took place in and 
about Mississippi. At Vicksburg he led the first assault, in the latter part of 
May, 1803, and it was not for lack of skill or bravery that it failed, but simply 
because the place was too strong- to be taken by open assault, only sudden at- 
tack in an unexpected place or a regular siege could possibly take it. This last 
was successful after about two months. Then he took his forces forward ag-ainst 
one of Lee's g-enerals and drove the Confederates out of the city of Jackson in two 
Aveeks, commanded a wing of the army at the battle of Chattanooga, and finally 
stai-ted olf with a newly-formed column of troops to Meridian, Alabama, where 
lie destroyed the enemy's depots and arsenals as he had also done to the railroads 
along* the line. 

In March, 1864, Grant was removed to Virginia, and Sherman being- appointed 
to take his old place, had charge of the division of the Mississippi, to which be- 
longed all the armies between the Mississippi River and the Alleg-hany Mountains. 
His orders were to move ag-ainst General Joseph E, Johnston, whose forces were 



William Tecumseh Sherman. 



18^ 



splendidly arrang^ed to cover and protect the city of Atlanta, which was the chief 
point at which Sherman was aiming- in order to carry the State of Georgia out of 
the hands of the Confederates. In May he begun this invasion, driving- General 
Johnston before him, from Dalton, Resaca, Cassville, and Dallas. One fortified 
post after another was taken, and the Southern Army was obliged to fig-ht and 
retreat all summer ; and after many severe battles, in which the Confederates had 
great losses, Sherman took possession of Atlanta on the 1st of September, 1804. 




William Tecumseh Sherman. 

Meanwhile he had made a g-reat name, and was promoted to the rank of major- 
g-eneral in the reg-ular army. He left Atlanta and beg-an his famous "march to 
the sea,"' in the middle of November. As the Southern armies were then far 
away from the route that Sherman took, and there was nothing- to stop the prog-- 
ress of his march, a g-reat deal more has been said about this exploit than, per- 
haps, it deserves ; but it was a peculiar and a daring- undertaking-. No one but 
the commander knew where they were g"oing-. There was a long- stretch of un- 
armed country throug-h which he planned to make a rapid march southeastward 



188 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

to the city of Savannah by the sea. From there he would make his way to dis- 
tant Virg-inia and attack the rear of Lee's army. He burned the city of Atlanta, 
cut the telegraph wires to the North, and ordered the march, leaving provisions 
behind. His forces were sixty thousand picked veterans, and his way lay throug-h 
one of the richest parts of the South, where the ravag-es of war had not yet been. 

Not even his men knew his desig-ns ; the country was filled with curiosity at 
the "wonderful march," and report spread far and wide of the sallies after food 
that were made in various directions, as they moved along, and of the bands of 
negroes that clung- to the army as their g-reat deliverer, and above all of the per- 
fect confidence of the men in their leader and their willingness to go wherever he 
directed. As they marched along*, the slaves flocked to the ranks from every plan- 
tation and farm. The Avomen, carrying their babies in their arms and hniding the 
little ones, tramped for miles and miles by the side of the ranks. They w(;re told 
that thej^ must g'o back antl Avait a little long-er, that there was not enough food 
in camp for so many to eat, but they could not be driven away, they would rather 
starve with them, in libei-ty, than go back to slaver3^ 

It was a g-lowing picture, that will never fade from the page of United States 
history, although it holds no very important place there. 

Finally the soldiers reached Ossabaw Sound, and Fort McAllister, which 
guarded the city of Savannah — then in the hands of the Confederates. The 
fort was stormed and taken with a I'ush in fifteen minutes, and after a siege of 
eight days the city was also captured. This was in about the middle of December. 

Sherman remained in Savannah until the 1st of February, recruiting his men, 
and g-etting- ready to begin the march northward to meet Grant and his army at 
Richmond. In a little over two weeks, he reached Columbia and took possession 
of it. From th(>re he went on to Fayetteville without meeting any o])i)osition, but 
soon after found that in front of him lay Joseph E. Johnston, wliom he had fouglit 
and beaten so many times on his first entrance into Georg-ia Jefferson Davis, 
the Confederate President, had ordered Johnston to collect all his forces and 
" drive back Sherman," but Sherman was not to be driven any w^ay, and, although 
Johnston and his men foug-ht so desperately at Golds])oro that for awhile it seemed 
doubtful which would win, Sherman was again the victor, and Johnston fell back 
to Raleigh. 

While they were in these positions the news of Lee's surrender came. Sherman 
marched to Raleigh at once and Johnston surrendered upon the same terms agreed 
to by Grant and Lee. He then nuu-ched his forces on to Washington and took 
leave of them; but in 1869, when Grant was elected President, he returned to 
them as general of the entire army. 

In November, 1871, he obtained leave of absence from the army and took a 



Robert Edmund Lee. 



189 



tour through Europe. At the end of a year he returned and settled down at 
Washin;yton as Corriniander-in-Chief of the army. Later, when General Philip 
Sheridan took this post, he removed to St. Louis. 

General Sherman was born at Lancaster, Ohio, February 8, 1820. 

Amon^ all the commanders in the Civil Wai-, i*««Et-*« the military g-enius of 
Gen(;ral Grant ranked that of Kobert Edmund Lee. He, too, was a graduate 
of West Point, where he stood at the head of his class. He finished his course 




Robert Edmund Lee. 



there when twenty years oltl and was appointed lieutenant in a corps of enf?ineer.s. 
For several years his work was establishing" boundary lines and improvin;^- har- 
bors and fortresses in various parts of the country, and when the Mexican War 
broke out he was made captain of the engineer corps of the army, under General 
Scott. His courage Avas e(|ual to his skill, and, heedless of bullets and shells, he 
took columns to their places as calmly as he planned defenses and superintended 
the works. Once, when he was wounded at Chapultepec, he kept on carrying 
orders until lie fainted from the effects of his wounds. His gallant service so dis- 
tinguished him among liis comrades that General Scott made a personal friend of 



190 One Hundred Fcunous Americans. 

him and the Government promoted him three times, so that he held the rank of 
colonel at the close of the war. 

It is said that the day after the taking- of Mexico, while the officers were having 
a g'ood time over their wine, some one proposed the health of Lee, the brave captain 
of the engineers, who had found the way for them into the city. OnJooking- around 
they found that he was not among them. Some one w^as sent to fetch him and 
found him at last hard at work over a map, which he could not be persuaded to 
leave. Duty before pleasure was always his motto. 

Four years after the close of the Mexican War he was made Superintendent of 
the Military Academy at West Point. Here he remained three years and then 
was made lieutenant-colonel of a regiment bound for Texas. His rank was next 
to that of the commanding officer of the regiment, Albert Sydney Johnston. 
After remaining two j^ears in Texas he obtained leave of absence to return to his 
home in Virginia. His wife, who was the daughter of General Washington's 
adopted son, George Washing'ton Parke Custis, had inherited the Washington 
estate on the Potomac, and Lee now spent two quiet years at home. 

Meanwhile trouble was brewing in tlie country. Differences of interest and 
opinion betAveen the North and the South were fast leading to blows. Virginia 
agreed with the other Southern States to leave the Union and with them fight for 
"States' Rights." Lee was obliged either to take up arms against his native 
State or to resign his position in the Union Army. It was far from bis wishes to 
do either, but he decided to cleave to his State and sent in his resignation. In 
writing to General Scott he said that he hoped he woukl never have to draw his 
sword again, but if he did it would have to be in defense of his native State, since 
he could not make war upon her. General Scott and other distinguished friends 
urged him to remain with the Union, It is said that even President Lincoln offered 
him a high position in the army ; but he refused all requests, although he knew 
that if he joined the Southern Army there would be many to rank above him. He 
was opposed to the Southern States separating- from the Union. He thought 
it w^as bad policy ; he said that if he owned a million of slaves he would 
gladly give them all to the Union, but his State had decided and he must follow 
its lead. 

Soon the terrible conflict began. Lee was at first appointed major-general of 
the forces of Virginia, but was soon promoted to the third place among the five 
leading generals of the Southern Army. 

He had no very important station dui-ing all of the first 3'ear, being- employed 
chiefly to look after the coast defenses of South Carolina and Georgia. But in 
June, 186*3, he took command of the army to defend Richmond, and succeeded in 
beating back the Northern Army under the command of McClellan. He rose to 



Robert Edmund Lee. 191 

chief command throug-h the death or disablement of hig-her officers, and he was 
not long- in power before he prov^ed himself worthy of his post. 

" In the short space of two months,'" says one of the leading- Confederate gen- 
erals, " with a force at no time over seventy-five thousand, he defeated in repeated 
engag-ements two Federal armies, each of which was not less than one hundred 
and twent}' thousand strong, relieved the Southern capital from dang-er, and even 
threatened that of the North. Then, throwing- his army into Mar^'land, he swept 
down on Harper's Ferry and captured it with its g-arrison of eleven thousand men 
and seventy- two guns." 

After this came the battle of Fredericksburg- and more brilliant movements by 
Lee. Then Grant came up to cope with him, backed by all the splendid forces of 
the North, while Lee had all his army in the field. For nine months this unequal 
contest was kept up, and the enemy held at bay — almost entirely, says one of Lee's 
companions, " by the genius of this one man, aided by the valor of his little force, 
occupying a stretch of over thirty miles and spread out so thin that it was scarcely 
more than a respectable skirmish line." 

The want and sufferings of the Southern soldiers during- these last few months 
of the war were fully equal to those of Washington's men during- the Revolution. 
Shoeless, hatless, ragged, and half-starved, they clung to their commander and 
their cause until only a handful were left. Powerless to help them, he could only 
suffer with them. Once, when he was invited to a grand dinner by some 
wealthy Southerners, he would not touch any but the plainest dishes, saying that 
he could not bear to be feasting while his soldiers were starving. 

His tenderness and kindness to all made him dearly loved by his men, and 
many touching stories are told of his goodness of heart. One day, while inspect- 
ing some batteries not far from the Union lines, the soldiers gathered around him 
so as to attract the fire of the enemy, Lee told the men that they had better go 
into the back-j^ard and not expose themselves to unnecessary danger. They did 
so, and when he had finished his work he followed. On his way back, while the 
bullets were whizzing past, he stopped in his quick walk to pick up a young 
sparrow which had fallen out of its nest and put it back in the tree before he 
went on. 

There was a very strong friendship between Lee and Thomas Jonathan Jack- 
son, who is often called " Stonewall Jackson." Each had the greatest admiration 
for the other. Jackson said : " General Lee is a phenomenon. He is the only 
man I would follow blindfolded." 

Twice during the war Lee's generous natui-e shone out most strongly. Once 
it was at Chancellorsville after he had won the field. As he rode out in sight of 
his victorious troops they burst out in enthusiastic cheers all along the line. But 



192 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

he refused to take the credit of the victory ; he said it belonged to Jackson. Then 
ag-ain at Gettysburg- in the hour of defeat. The battle was lost because some one 
had not obeyed his orders, but not a word of blame did Lee utter. He took all of 
the responsibility vipon himself. 

After the war was over Lee was offered several g-ood positions ; one was in 
New York with a larg-e salaiy, and one was to become President of the Washing-- 
ton and Lee University at Lexing-ton, Virg-inia. Althoug-h the latter offered him 
poorer pay than almost an}' of the other positions, he decided to accept it, because 
it seemed to him his duty. The future of the country, he thoug-ht, depends upon 
its young- men. The South had an uncertain futui-e, and there would be g-reat 
need of g-ood citizens. As president of a college he would become well acquainted 
with the future citizens of his State, and he could help to fit them for useful, noble 
lives. He had a difficult task before him, owing- to the disturbed state of the 
country and the wild, disobedient spirit of the young people who had grown up 
without much training during the war — for the conflict had scattered homes and 
broken up families throughout a large part of the South. One of his chief cares 
was to keep them from cruelty to the negroes and from violent outbreaks against 
any one connected with the North. Lee himself was very free from resentment 
towards the Union States, and he did a great deal to give his pupils fair and 
peaceable ideas. He did not govern his college like an army. He was as capable 
of being a kind and generous school-manager as of maintaining strict army disci- 
pline, and when his death came suddenly, he was as sincerely mourned for a noble 
and upright Christian g-entleman as a leader of armies and winner of battles. 

Robert E. Lee was born at Stratford, Virginia, June 19, 1807. He died at 
Lexington in the same State, October 12, 1870. 

Thomas Joiiiithau Jackson was also a Virginian, who graduated from 
West Point and was sent fresh from the Academy into the midst of the Mexican 
War the year it broke out — that is, in 1846. He soon won the rank of first lieuten- 
ant. After the war was over he helped to build the forts about New York Harbor 
and then went to Florida to take part in settling the troubles with the Seminole 
Indians. Soon after this — in 1852 — he was chosen one of the instructors in the 
Virginia Military Academy at Lexington, where the Washington and Lee Univer- 
sity was afterwards established. He taught natural philosophy and military 
tactics. He made a good teacher, but he Avas so very bashful that the students 
used to have a great deal of fun about him. 

He had very strong opinions about States' rights, and as soon as the war broke 
■out he enlisted at once in the Confederate Army, where he was made a colonal and 
placed in command at Harper's Feri-y. From that moment all his shyness left 



Thomas Jonathan Jackson. 193 

liim. He took the lead with his men, as if he had always been a commander, 
trained to dignity, discipline, and authority. 

When he had been three months in the army he was called to take part in the 
first g-reat battle of the war — that of Bull Run, which was fought July 21, 1861, 
between the armies of General P. G. T. Beauregard of the South, and General 
Irwin McDowell of the North. During the battle some of the heavy charges 
from the North made the Southern lines waver, but Jackson and his men stood 
firm. One of his fellow-officers caught sight of him and exclaimed to his own men, 
"" See Jackson standing there like a stone wall I '" From that time he was called 




Thomas Jonathan Jackson. (Stonewall.) 

*^ Stonewall Jackson;" but it is also said that his troops were first called ''the 
Stonewall Brigade ' ' because they came from the stone wall counties of Virginia. 

In September, after the conflict at Bull Run, Jackson was made a major-gen- 
ei^l ; in January he was sent North to keep General Banks occupied and prevent 
him from making any serious movements. He harassed the Union forces all he 
could, but did not dare to risk any open battles because he had not enoug'h men. 
In March twenty thousand more were added to his force ; then he was ready to 
fight. 

In the meantime the Northern Army had been divided. General McClellan 
with the greater part had started for Richmond by water. Another body under 



194 One Hundred Famous Amerianis. 

General McDowell set out for the same place by land, and anotlier under Genei-al 
Banks was ordered to march down to Manassas and to scour the Shenandoah valle}^. 
But General Jackson soon stopped the scouring- by falling- upon General Banks at 
Strasburg, Vii-ginia, where he not only beat him in short order, but chased him 
all the Avay up to the Potomac. 

When the people at Washing-ton heard of this they were greatly alarmed, aiu; 
McDowell, who had set out to join McClellan, hastened back to protect the capital. 
This was exactly Avhat the Southern people wanted, for with McDowell up at 
Washing'ton it would be easier to keep McClellan away from Richmond. This 
was the next thing to be done, and Jackson immediately started to help Lee do it. 
The news of his raids and also of his approach to Richmond made McClellan very 
much afraid that lie did not have men enough to fight so dang-erous a foe, and 
finally induced him to give up his purpose for the time. Jackson reached the 
place just in time to help Lee drive him away. Two l3attles were fought while the 
Northern Armj^ was retreating-, one at Gaines' Mills and one at Malvern Hill, 
neither of which were decidedly won by either army ; but they favored the South, 
for McClellan kept falling back to the James River. Here Jackson left him and 
started north again, where another large Union army had been raised and sent 
into Virginia under General Pope. 

While on his way to meet this new force, Jackson cam(> across his old enemy, 
General Banks, at Cedar Mountain. There they had a battle in which Banks was 
badly beaten. Jackson hurried on and in two Aveeks more surprised a part of 
Pope's army at Manassas Junction, captured a larg-e quantity of guns and pro- 
visions, and then moved on to the rest of the Nortliern Army, which was stationed 
on the old Bull Run battlefield. Here, August 2Sth, occurred the second battle 
of Bull Run, the victory all on Jackson's side. The next morning, bright and early, 
he was up and away again. On the 10th of September he was at Martinsville, 
helping liimself to a good stock of annnunition and provisions which the Union 
Army had Left on hearing of his approach. He followed them to Harper's Ferry, 
stormed the place, and, without waiting to receive the surrender— only making 
sure that it must come— went on to rejoin General Lee. The morning of September 
17th he was ready to take an important part in the battle of Antietam. Lee said 
that whatever credit there was due to the South in this engagement belonged to 
Jackson. But tliis was hardly just to himself. 

From the close of this battle until April Jackson was busy preparing olhcial 
reports and had no part upon the field. Then, May 2d, he engaged in his last 
battle at Chancellorsville, Virginia. His victorious troops again made fearful 
havoc among the Northern ranks. With one of his ([uick, unexpected attacks, he 
surprised a large force and routed them in terrible confusion. Jackson was every- 



JosPpJi KggJesfon Johnston. 195 

where in the thickest of the fight. Nig'ht came on, and as he and his aids galloped 
back to the camp, his own troops mistook them for enemies and fired upon them. 
Jackson was badly wounded and eig-lit days afterward he died. His loss was a 
terrible bknv to the South, Lee said that his rig-ht arm was g-one. 

As a general, Jackson had few equals. He had wonderful power over his men ; 
he was perfectly fearless, but not reckless ; he saw wdien he could strike a telling- 
blow and never hesitated to do it ; but he also saw when the case was hopeless, and 
would not risk the lives of his men. His most brilliant charges were made after 
careful planning- and close calculation of his own and liis enemy's forces. As a 
man he was modest, uprigiit, and remarkabl^^ pure-minded. His loss, it has been 
said, was the g-reatest that either party had yet had, in the fall of a single man. 

General Thomas J. Jackson wa^ born at Clarksburg", Virginia, January 2\, 
1824. He died at Guhiea's Station, hi the same State, May 10, 18G;J. 

Among- the military students who graduated from West Point witii Lee, in 
1839, was Joseph Eggleston Joliiistoii, another yonng-A^irginian. He also 
became a civil engineer — giving his attention to tlie map-making branch of the 
w^ork— and was ready to take a hand in active fighting- when there was need of if. 
In the war with the Florida Indians he foug-ht so well that he was made a captain. 

After that he went on with the surveying- and map-making, and in 1843 helped 
survey the boundary line between the United States and the British Provinces. 
When that w^as done he spent two years making- surveys of our sea-coast. Then 
came the Mexican War, and in General Scott's list of officers Johnston's name 
was put down as captain of the topog-raphical or map-making- eng-ineers. He look 
part in all the active fighting in Mexico, and was twice wounded. His skill and 
bravery so distinguished him that he had several promotions — to major, then to 
lieutenant-colonel, finally he was made colonel. 

After thQ peace with Mexico, his engineering- work was chiefly in surveys and 
river improvements, until the outbreak of the Civil War. Then he resig-ned from 
the Government and entered the Confederate Army. At the beg-inning of the 
conflict he was one of the four generals who held rank above Lee, having- conunand 
of the Confederate Army of Virginia. 

The first battle of Bull Run would probably have been g-ained by the Union 
side but for Johnston, who came up with ten thousand fresh troops just as the 
Confederates were being- driven back, and beg-an pouring- his new men in upon the 
enemy till they were panic-stricken and fled toward Washing-ton in g-reat disorder. 

In May of the next year Johnston thought that the chances of war had favored 
him with a happj^ accident, for while he was being- chased toward Richmond by 
the Union Army, under General McClellan, the sudden swelling- of the Chick;!- 



19G One Hundred Famous Americans. 

lioininy divided the Northerners into two paints. One portion was already over 
the sti'eani, while the heavy storm prevented the rest from following'. Though 
some distance ahead of them, Johnston learned what had happened and turned 
back to attack the small body which had crossed. On the first day he was quite 
successful in beating- them back fi'om the Richmond road, but on the second day he 
was woiuided and his men were vanquished by the little body of McClellan's army. 

The chance proved to Johnston a most unhappy one, for it was six months be- 
fore he Avas able to enter the field again. He returned just as Grant was getting* 
a firm hold at Vlcksburg", and was ordered to drive him away. But before he 
reached that station he was forced by General Sherman to back up into Georg-ia. 
Behind him lay Atlanta, which, next to Richmond, was the city that the Union 
side most desired to capture. 

The country between was very mountainous, full of deep gullies, woods, and 
ravines, which made it easier to hold than to take. But Jolmston's army wa's 
much smaller than Sherman's, so that the difficulties were about evenl^'^ divided. 
Johnston made several stands, but Sherman found a way of slipping" around his 
side and forcing him to fall back still further toward Atlanta if he would try to 
defend it. It was an interesting- game of war that these two g-reat generals 
played during' these weeks. Not manj^ heavy battles were fought, but Johnston 
steadily lost ground. Some say that Johnston allowed Sherman to advance on pur- 
pose, knowing that each station he left behind him took a number of his soldiers, 
and that the further Sherman advanced the greater were his own chances of beat- 
ing liini ill a final battle, which he would fight before they reached Atlanta. But 
he was not able to carry out this plan, for just as he was ready to fight his deci- 
sive battle, the Confederate President, Jefferson Davis, told him to hand his forces 
over to General Hood, who fought the battle and lost it ; so Sherman was able to 
move into Atlanta. 

But by February of the next year, when, after leaving Atlanta and making his 
march to the sea, Sherman came sweeping up toward Raleigh, President Davis 
had learned that if he had any general al)le to cope with Sherman, it was Johns- 
ton, so he sent him out again to meet or spoil the plans of his old enemy. But 
there was pi'obably no army in the country a match for Sherman's veterans, and 
after a long, hard battle, Johnston was defeated at Goldsboro, North Carolina. 

While they were resting after the fight, news came that Lee had surrendered 
to Grant. Sherman then puslied on to Raleigh and took possession, and Johnston 
surrendered upon the same terms that Lee had yielded to Grant. In his fare- 
well speech to his troops he entreated them to observe faithfully the terms of 
peace agreed upon, and to discharge tlu^ obligations of good and peaceful citizens 
as well as they liad performed the duties of thorough soldiers in the lield. 



David Glascoe Farragiit. IST 

Since the close of the war General Johnston has lived at Savannah, Georgia, 
and has taken an active part in improving- the industries of the South. He has 
been especiall}' connected with the farming interests, commerce and railroad en- 
terprises. He has also written a hook upon his military operations during the war. 

General Joseph E. Jolmston was born in Prince Edward Coimty, Virginia, in 
February of the year 1807. 

The great admiral of the Civil War was David Glascoe Farragiit, a res- 
olute soldier, a brave seaman, and a noble gentleman. When he was a lad 
eleven years old, he first entered the country's service on board Captain Porter's 
famous Essex, in the War of 1812. He was only a midshipman when this vessel 
captured His Majesty's sloop of war, the Alert, but he behaved so well during the 
great excitement of the short fight, that the captain reported him after the cap- 
ture and said that his bravery and good service deserved promotion, although the 
boy was too young to receive it. But Farragut was rewarded in another way — 
by the captain's interest and friendship, wliich was of more value to him then 
than advances in the navy. He needed more education and his great friend se- 
cured a place for him in a school at Chester, Pennsylvania, where he could study 
naval and military' science. 

After about a year he was sent with a number of other students to the Medi- 
terranean in a naval ship. On this cruise a strong friendship grew up between 
young Farragut and one of the teachers, a Mr. Fulsome, who was soon after ap- 
pointed Consul to Tunis and obtained permission to take his favorite pupil with 
him. Here they studied history together and talked over the deeds of the great 
Hannibal as they walked over the very place where that w^arrior had promised 
his father that he would never lay down his arms against Rome. 

Farragut remained at Tunis a year ; then was appointed a lieutenant in the 
navy, and ordered to the West Indies. Three years afterward he was sent to 
take charge of the navy yard at Norfolk, Virginia. There he married and re- 
mained for a number of years. He spent all his spare time in studjqng, not only 
naval science, but several of the languages. By and by, when a still more im- 
portant place was in need of a commander, Farragut was named as being better 
fitted to take charge of it than any man in the service. So he was soon sent out 
to the Mare Island navy yard in California, where he remained from 1854 to 1858. 

During the exciting days after tlie declaration of the Civil War, he was at his 
home again in Norfolk, anxiouslj^ wishing to see which way his State would go, 
but when it seceded he could not follow. To him the right side was that of the 
Union. He could not fight against the old flag under which he had served for 
almost fifty years. So when the news came that the Virginia Legislature 



198 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

had decided to unite witli the Confederation and cut h)ose from the Union, Farra- 
g-ut hastily packed up a few of liis tiousehold g-oods, put a hraee of pistols in his 
pocket, and left Norfolk with his wife and child. He came North, found a quiet 
home for his family at Hasting-s-on-the-Hudson, and leaving- them there went on 
to Washington, to oft'er his services to the country. 

At that time all the ships of the United States Navy were away in foreign 
ports, so the Government could g-ive him nothing- to do, but they told him to wait 
in readiness for the first charg-e they could give him. It was nine months before 
this came. Then he was put in command of seventeen g-reat war-ships and ordered 
to capture New Orleans. 

This was no easy matter, for New Orleans was very strong-ly defended. In 
Revolutionary times two g-reat forts, Jackson and St. Philip, had been built, one 
on each side of the Mississippi River, sixty miles below the city. They had kept 
the British out of the " Father of Waters " eig-hty years before, and still they stood 
in streng-th and fastness. Farrag-ut w^as told that several officers in the French 
and Eng-lish navies — good judg-es of defenses — had said that it would be impossi- 
ble for any fleet to pass these forts. He replied : " It may be so, but I w^as sent 
here eithei- to take these forts or pass them, and I mean to tr3\" Among- the offi- 
cers in the fleet was Commodore Porter, son of the old captain under whom Far- 
rag-ut had served when he first entered the navy. Tog-ether they devised and car- 
ried out a plan for disguising- the squadron before setting- sail for the forts. This 
was a trick that okl Commander Porter used often to try, and both the younger 
commanders were apt pupils. They painted the outside of the gunboats with mud 
so that they looked nuich like the muddy ground they were passing and could not 
be easily seen in the distance. The masts they twined with foliage like the forests 
along the rivei", and as thej^ came nearer to the forts they bound marsh-weeds to 
the sides of the vessels. 

At last they were within firing distance of Fort Jackson and turned their great 
guns toward it. The boats kept up almost a continuous fire upon the fort for a 
week, and still it show^ed no signs of surrendering. Then Farrag-ut decided to try 
the dangerous task of nmning past it. He ordered everything- to be got ready 
and at two o'clock in the morning of April 24th, he g-ave the signal for starting — 
two red lights hoisted on the mast of his flag-ship, the Hartford. As the boats 
moved silently up the river, Farragut lashed himself to the mast of his ship so 
that he might l)e able to see above the smoke when the l)attle begim. A loud roar 
from the cannon of the fort soon told them that they had been discovered. Two 
bright beacons had been kept burning on shore, throwing a strong light across the 
river, through which it was impossible for the ships to pass without being clearly 
seen. As soon as their prows touched the clear, shining- path across the waters, 



David Glascoe Farragiif. 



199 



a-larm was g-iven. Signals blazed up from all points along- the shore and every 
gnn of the fort began to pour out its deadly fire, while the fleet, keeping- steadily 
on, poured out their shot and shell incessantly, till the whole place was shrouded 
with volumes of smoke. Five rafts came down upon them and set the Hartford 




Davto Glascoe Farragut. 

ablaze, but the active company of firemen soon put the fire out, and at last the 
fleet was past the fort. 

But they were not yet safe, for they suddenl^^ found themselves in a perfect 
nest of fire-rafts and g-unboats, among- which was the terrible iron-clad ram, 
Manassas. A desperate battle of an hour and a half settled the question, the 
Southern fleet was destroyed ; thirteen of Farrag-ut's vessels had passed the forts, 
and the way to New Orleans was open. 



200 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

This was one of the most terrible naval battles ever fought. Farragut said r 
" It was one of the most awful sights and events I ever saw or expected tO' 
see. The smoke was so dense that it was only now and then you could see any- 
thing- but the flash of the cannon and the fire-ships or rafts." 

He moved on to New Orleans directly, and forced the surrender of the city, 
completing the main object of his expedition. This was, altogether, one of the 
most important victories of the war, and Congress rewarded the leader by creat- 
ing for him the office of Vice- Admiral of the United States Navy. 

The day after the surrender he sailed on up the Mississippi to Vicksburg and 
stormed that place, but it was too strong to be carried without help from land 
forces, so he went down the river again and put up at Pensacola for repairs. 

As soon as the fleet was again ready he crossed the Gulf of Mexico, took Gal- 
veston, Corpus Christi, and the Sabine Pass, and broke the power of the Southern 
navy in that vicinit\\ 

Another order to go to Vicksburg was given in March of the next year. This 
time he went to work with good aid on land, for General Grant's forces were 
already drawn up near by. Two vessels were carried past the fort below the city 
and thus beset b^^ a great general on land and the vice-admiral on the river. 
General Pemberton was compelled to yield the city. 

In midsummer the Government sent Farragut's fleet to take Mobile and stop 
the way of the blockade-runners who were planning to get up into the Southwest 
territory through Mobile Bay. This was guarded by Fort Morgan, Fort Gaines, 
and a powerful iron-clad ram and three gunboats, that lay a little further in the 
bay. Farragut's fleet of fourteen wooden steamers and gunboats and four iron- 
clad monitors, passed Fort Morgan and met the Confederate vessels in one of the 
fiercest naval battles on record. The commander was again lashed to the rigging 
of the Hartford, where he could see everything that took place and direct the 
terrible conflict which only closed with the Confederates' surrender. In a few 
days after this victory the Union armies took the forts, and the blockade-runners 
were effectually shut out. 

For this another new rank was created in the navy making him a full admiral. 
He made two voyages after the war, but from the second one he never returned 
home. 

Admiral Farragutwas born near Knoxville, Tennessee, July 5, 1801. He died 
at Portland, Maine, August 14, ISTO. 



PIONEERS AND EXPLORERS. 



THE first successful Eng-lish settlement in the land that afterward became the- 
United States was made at Jamestown, Virginia, in the verj^ first part of 
the last century. 

The chief mover in this enterprise was Bartholomew Gosiiold, an Eng- 
lish voyager who had joined Raleigh in his first attempt to found a colony in Vir- 
ginia in the 3^ear 1585. He had afterward led a colony into Buzzard's Bay, m Mas- 
sachusetts, eighteen years before the Pilgrims found their way to Plymouth Rock. 
He named Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard while coasting- around before he se- 
lected the place for his settlement. His little colony did not stay long. They grew 
disheartened by their trouble with the Indians and the scarcity of provisions, and 
finally Captain Gosnold had them load up their ships with sassafras, and returned 
with them to England. He made this voyage b^^ a new route, past the Azores, 
which saved fifteen hundred miles of sailing and a week's time. 

Far from discouraged himself, in recounting his voyage to the King he set 
forth the advantages of the distant land with the desire of being alloAved to i-eturn 
as soon as possible. He began at once to gather another band to go back with 
him. He helped to organize the two great companies — called the London and the 
Pl^nnouth — and soon after set sail with John Smith and several other companions 
to make a settlement in Virginia. 

They reached the Chesapeake and, entering the bay, named the points of Cape 
Henry and Cape Charles in honor of the King's sons, while the peninsula about 
fifty miles further on, which they chose for the site of their settlement, they called 
Jamestown, and the Powhatan River of the Indians they christened the James — 
both in loyal remembrance of their monarch. 

They selected the site of their settlement on the 13th of May, 1G07, and began 
at once to establish themselves and to make their explorations. Part of them be- 
gan to fell trees, and clear the site for their dwellings, while another portion set 
off in shallops to begin to fill the King's commission to discover the water-ways, 
that were supposed to lead through Virginia to the Pacific. 



202 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Gosnold did not live to see the colony established. The damp, unhealthy 
climate, the exposure and poor provisions, soon brought on sickness among- the 
company, and he was among- the first of the fifty men who died almost at the out- 
set of their labors. 

After this the company suifered still more ill-fortunes — chiefly from quarrels 
among- themselves — and at last it was only a small portion of the original band 
that remained to make their settlement a lasting- one. 

By this time, the leading- man in the colony was John Smith. He was well 
fitted for this position ; for, although he had many faults as a man, he was so in- 
spiring- and energetic a pioneer that he succeeded in bring-ing peace and then pros- 
perity into the tried, disheartened, and rebellious little company, so that b}'- the 
time winter was fairly come, they were ready to go on with their explorations. 

Smith was an adventurer by nature, and he had had many a wild experience 
before coming- to America. He had spent several years fig-hting- with the Turks 
in Europe — had been captured by them and sent as a slave to Constantinople. 
From there he was sent to the sea of Azov with a letter, where he manag-ed to 
make his escape by killing- his master, donning- his clothes, and riding- away on 
his horse to the Russian camp. The Russians heljied him back to Transylvania, 
where in token of his former services ag-ainst the Turks, his losses were made g'ood. 

This done. Smith returned to England, just at the time everj-body was talking- 
about the New World, the prospect of finding in it an abundance of g-old, and 
the King-'s willing-ness to make settlements there. He was interested at once. 
America offered just the kind of adventure he liked ; and with Gosnold and a cou- 
ple of other men, he went eagerly to work to start a company for colonizing- the 
other side of the globe. 

It took a year to make all the preparations, but at last everything was ready. 
A company of over one hundred men had ag'reed to go, and a charter had been 
obtained from King James, who also g-ave them a sealed box containing- his in- 
structions about the form of government to be used, the councillors to be in com- 
mand, and what explorations he required of them. 

When the box was opened after the colonists reached America, and it was 
found that John Smith's name appeared among the councillors, he was not allowed 
to take the office; for the voyageurs had fallen into jealous quarrels on their way 
over, and Smith — being- a spirited, energ-etic man — had been accused by several of 
his companions of intending to make himself king of Virginia. He was even kept 
bound until he was needed to help in the work of clearing the ground and build- 
ing- the forts. Then they released him, and he went earnestly to work at once, 
biding his time for the redress of his wrongs. At one time, he was sent out 
among- the savages to secure their friendship and buy corn ; and at another the 



John Smith. 



203 



jealous councillors decided to send him to England to be tried for his alleged 
treason. But he refused to go, and said if he were accused of treason he would be 




C^APTAiN John Smith. 

tried then and tliere. The result was that he was not only cleared from all 
charges, but the president was obliged to pay him damages for depriving him of 
his liberty. This money he handed over at once to be used for the colony. Then 
be was permitted to take his place among the councillors. 



204 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Soon after this the ship which had brought the party returned to England, and 
as the hot weather came, as their provisions ran low, and sickness broke out, it was 
a jaded and unhappy band, striving' in what was almost a forlorn hope. At one 
time there were only ten well men among them. Fifty of them died before the 
summer was over ; and then there were other troubles. The president of the set- 
tlement was found dishonest and removed ; the man chosen to take his place 
was not capable of governing, the others were sick, so at last the care of the colony 
fell upon Smith. This was the most fortunate thing that ever happened to that 
suffering little band. He soon had all the men that were able to work bus}^ improv- 
ing their cabins ; he managed very adroitly to turn the threatening hostility of 
the savages into admiration, if not awe of the whites, and thus had no difficulty in 
buying their corn, and in gaining kindnesses from them which probably saved the 
whole expedition from complete failure. 

As soon as he had provided for the pressing needs of the colony Smith started 
out with two Englishmen and two Indian g'uides to explore the great wilderness, 
that lay all about them. He had not gone far before he was taken captive 
and would have been slain if he had not thought to arouse the curiosity of his cap- 
tors by showing them his pocket-compass. Instead of killing him they then took 
him around among the tribes and exhibited him as a wonder. But when he was 
brought to Powhatan that great chief made up his mind he was an enemy and 
ordered him to be slain. It was at this time, just as a savage was about to bring 
the fatal war-club down upon his head, that Pocahontas, the twelve-year-old 
daughter of Powhatan, rushed between Smith and the Indian and begged her 
father to spare his life. He granted her request, set the captive at liberty, and 
ordered twelve of his warriors to escort him back to Jamestown. 

Smith found the settlement in great disorder, the food all gone, and the people 
determined to go back to Eng-land as soon as they could. His return, however, 
brought hope. He told them he could obtain food and keep them cheerful and able 
to work. In a little while Newport, who had taken their vessel back to England, 
returned with a ship-load of supplies and over a hundred new settlers. All might 
now have gone well but for an excitement that broke out upon the finding of some 
yellow mica which the settlers thought was gold. There was no more work done 
then but digging for gold. A whole ship-load of it was sent to Europe, and every 
settler imagined himself a rich man until t\\Qy learned what a foolish mistake 
they had made. Smith left them to their useless schemes — he knew they had not 
found gold — and set out upon another exploring expedition. This time he was 
more successful than before. He made several trips, once going as far as 
the present State of Ohio, and always drawing carefid maps of the country he 
passed through. It was not until after his return from this trip in September, 1608,. 



John Smith. 205 

"that he was elected president of the council, though he had been the only acting- 
president of the colony for a long- time. 

When Newport returned from England, which was soon after this election, he 
brought the news that the colonists' "g'old" was worthless dirt. It was just 
what Smith had told them, and they were, after this, more willing to believe in his 
judgement. Newport also brought other news. The authorities sent orders to 
Smith to send them some real gold and to find a passage through the new coun- 
try to the South Sea. He answered by sending back some good lumber and 
specimens of tar and pitch which he told them could be found in large quantities. 
This was most too matter-of-fact an answer to the high expectations of the mem- 
bers of the London Council. They therefore obtained a new charter from the king 
and had another g-overnor appointed, one who would make some efforts to obtain 
gold instead of spending his time exploring the country, examining its resources, 
and forcing the gentlemen who went over to look for gold to dig and plant and 
fell trees like ordinary laborers. 

Nine vessels were now fitted out and over five hundred emigrants set sail for 
Virginia. The newly appointed governor not being readj^ to come with them 
sent a deputy to take his place for a time. But the deputy did not reach Virginia 
in more than a year. A storm wrecked his and another vessel off Bermuda ; and, 
drifting to the coast of the island, the^^ were obliged to stay there until they could 
repair their ships. The other seven ships reached Virg'inia, carrying- more gentle- 
men g'old-seekers, who added greatly to Smith's difficulties. Before he could 
bring them to believe that it was better to work than to starve, he met with a 
misfortune which compelled hun to leave them to their fate. Some powder, ex- 
ploding by accident one day, injured him so severely that he had to set sail at 
once for England, Avhere he could receive proper medical treatment. 

Left to themselves the colonists — especially the new ones — spent their time 
in idleness, roving, and doing whatever they wished ; they neglected the work that 
had been so carefully started, and, worst of all, were so insolent to the Indians 
that they could no longer buy corn of them. Soon their food was gone, and when 
the deputy -governor arrived from Bermuda he found only sixty wretched, half- 
starved men left in the settlement. 

For a long time after Captain Smith's return to England, he was obliged to 
keep quiet on account of his wounds, so he began to study and to write accounts 
of his travels and make a history of the settlement of Virginia, with a map of the 
country. 

When he was able, he came again to the New World. This was five years after 
he had left Jamestown ; but he did not return to Virginia. His course was far- 
ther north. Coasting along the north-east shores, he made a map of the country — 



306 One Hundred Ifcunons Ainerivuns. 

which he named New England — and carried home full accounts of all he had seen 
there. The next yeai", 1615, he set out with two vessels and a little band of set- 
tlers, but they were all captured by a French ship and taken to La Rochelle. After 
awhile Captain Smith escaped from here, and, reaching- England in safety, left it 
no more. The rest of his life was spent in writing a book, called "• New England's 
Trials," and in traveling about the country, selling it and trying to interest peo- 
ple in making settlements in America. 

John Smith was born at Willougliby, Lincolnshire, England, in 1579. He died 
in London, England, in 1631. 

The most important colony that settled in New England was a band of Pil- 
grims, who, driven from their native land on account of their religion, first 
sojourned in Holland, and then embarked for America. They landed at the place 
Avhich John Smith had already named Plymouth, on the 21st of December, 1620. 

The leaders were the courageous, energetic soldier. Miles Staiidish^ 
who was the military leader of the Pilgrims in their wars against the Lidians ; 
John Carver, who was chosen governor after the landing, and managed 
the afifaii's of the colony with care and wisdom for the four months that he 
lived ; and William Bradford, who was elected governor after Carver's death, 
and held that office for over thirty years. But probably the greatest man among 
the New England settlers was Ro.^er Williams, who did not come to America 
until a little more than ten years after the Pilgrims landed. He was a scholaiiy 
young Welsh clergyman, who had been educated for the Church of England at 
Oxford University, but had become a Puritan of the stanchest kind. He was 
already quite famous, and at first the people welcomed him and his wife A^ery cor- 
dially. But they soon felt that he was not severe enough in his ideas, so he had 
to leave Boston, and went to Salem. There, too, he made enemies because he did 
not think just like the authorities did about some church affairs, and he was 
forced to leave that place also. One of his great "errors " was that he said the 
authorities had no right to punish any people for not going to church or for want- 
ing in their waj'" the liberty that the Puritans themselves had come so far to 
secure. The Salem people were very angry at him when they sent him away, but 
after a couple of 3'ears he was called back and was installed as pastor of their 
church. 

Meanwhile he had been at Plymouth, and had become well acquainted with the 
Indians, learning tbeir language, and also some of their grievances. He boldly 
said that the King of England had no i-ight to give away their land to white 
people, without first paying' them for it. This and the freedom with which he 
still spoke bis mind about the i-iders and magisti-ates having no right to interfere 



Roger Williams. -iOl 

with the religious beliefs of the people wei'e more than the ligid Pilgrims could stand, 
and before long- they said so, and gave him just six weeks in which to leave the col- 
ony. This time was afterward leng'thened to several months. Williams improved 
it by spreading- his doctrine as fast as he could and announcing- that he himself 
would start a colony in which people might believe as seemed to them right and 
not after the law of any council. 

The rulers heard of this and decided to send him at once to England, but tlicy 
did not succeed in doing so ; for he was warned by his friends just in time to make 
his escape. It was in the middle of a bleak, cold New England winter ; but there^' 
was no time to lose, and so, leaving wife and children behind in safety, he fled from 
Salem to find refuge in the wilderness. Snow lay thick upon the ground, marked 
here and there with the footprints of wild beasts. He could hear their voices, too, 
at night as he crouched in the shelter of some hollow tree or la^^ in the smoky hut 
of some of the friendly Indians, from whom he also begged his food. •■'They 
were," he said, " the ravens that fed me in the wilderness." 

In his other exile at Plymouth,Williams had known Massasoit, the great Indian 
king ; he had then made him presents and shown him much kindness, for he felt 
that the white men owed a good deal to the red Americans whose country they 
had taken possession of. Remembering this former friendship he now went to 
Massasoit in his distress. 

The great chief had not forgotten his kindness and Avelcomed him right royal ly 
to his camp. In the spring- he gave liim a tract of land by the side of the Seekonlv 
River near the place now known as Manton's Cove, and here the fugitive 
preacher resolved to make his home. 

He had left Salem all alone, but live others had now joined him and tog'ether 
they began to build a cabin and plant corn. But soon word came that they were 
still on Plymouth soil. Governor Winthrop, who was secretly a friend to 
Williams, sent a letter advising him to move to the other side of the water, where 
he might have the whole country before him and be as free as themselves. 

So, in a short time, he took leave of his fields of sprouting corn and his imtin- 
ished cabin and with his five companions set out in a canoe in search of a place 
where he could establish a free government, and afford a home to those who were 
persecuted because of their opinions. 

At last a favorable place was found on the west side of the peninsula nt;ar the 
mouth of the Moshassuck River — the place where the city of Providence now 
stands. Roger Williams gave it this name "because," he said, "of a sense of 
God's merciful providence unto me in my distress." 

When he drew up the plan of government for the new settlement he resolved 
to have it a liberal one. Providence he desired should be "'a shelter for persons 



208 0)ie Hundred Famous ^inwricans. 

distressed for conscience." All who should come to live thei'e would be asked to 
promise obedience to laws for the public ^ood, l)ut "only in civil thinjL^s." In 
religion their own consciences shoidd be their laws. 

The settlement was hardly beg"un before Williams had a chance to heap coals 
of fii-e on the heads of the magistrates who had driven him from Sakun. The 
Pequot Indians had made an attack on some of the settlers and wei'e tryin^^;' to 
induce the Nari'ag-ansetts — a very lai-ge and pow(;i'ful ti'ibe — to join them in a 
general massacre of all the white peo])le of the Plymouth Colony. When tlu; i-u- 
lers heard of this they wei-e in gi-eat fright. Peace nuist be made with the wi\ mvu 
in some way, or the Pilgi'inis would be entirely destroyed. There was l)ut one 
white man in the country who knew these Indians well enough to have any influ- 
ence witli them. That was Roger Williams. So they sent to him — away out 
in the wilderness to wliich he had fletl from their persecutions but a short time 
before — and begged him to go to the camp of the N;nr;ig;iiiselts :iikI induce tluiui 
not to join the Pequots. 

It was a bold i-ecpiest to make of a man on whom they had turned as an enemy, 
especially as he would have to risk his life if he undertook the journey ; but Roger 
Williams was too noble to refuse even this saci-ihce for the sake of so many 
others, and he lost no tim(^ in setting out. He found the Pequots ali-eady there, 
when he reached the dwellings of the Narragansetts, and their stirring apjwals to 
their kindred to rise and kill the white men who were fast I'obbing them of theii- 
hunting-grounds and the burial-places of their fathers had almost persuaded the 
coolei' Narragansetts to join them. Williams went at once to the dwelling of the 
sachems and spent three daj's and three nights in company with the treacherous 
Pequots, wdiom he expected every night would put their "bloody knives to his 
throat." But the friendship he had foi-med with the Nari-agansetts was a strong 
one. They respected his coimsels, and finally, with the Mohicans, another strong 
tribe, agreed to make a treaty with the English against the Pequots. 

That trib(; soon opened war, and in the wretched conflict, which lasted four 
years, the magistrates il(!p(;rided almost entirely upon Williams for advice and for 
keeping the peace with the friendlj' liMians, and it was chiefly due to him that 
the war was at last brought to an end successful to the colonists. Yet, when Gov- 
ernor Win throp moved that he be recalled from banishment and some mark of 
favor be showTi him for his services, the authoriti<.>s refused to do it, and a few 
years later they even refused to allow the colony of Providence to join those of Mas- 
sachusetts Bay, Plymouth, Connecticut, and New Haven in a league for mutual 
protection against the Dutch and Fi'ench. The only allies of this little band of refu- 
gees were the Indians. Even with tlieni it needed very skillful managing to keep 
from an outbreak on account of the wr-ongs they suffered fi-om the other colonies. 



Roger Willianis. 



209 



At length the people of Providence decided to look to the mother country for 
protection. They sent Williams to England to procure for them a charter which 
would define tlieir boundai-ies and forbid tlie other colonies from interfering- with 
them. Massachusetts had already begun to dictate to them as though they were 
under her control, and none of them felt (^uite willing- to let them alone. Williams 
sailed in the summer of 1643 from New York, and in a little more than a .\-ear 
returned with the charter and the g-ood wishes of the mother country. 

The next few years were very bus^'' ones for Williams. Many of the colonists 
were dissatisfied with the g-overnment which the new chai'ter instituted. The Ind- 




RoGER Williams. 



ians were troublesome, owing to insults which they received from the united col- 
onies of Massachusetts and Connecticut. These colonies still treated the people 
of Rhode Island contemptuousl\' whenever they had a chance. They went so far 
as to ari-est three citizens of Newport who went to Lynn to visit an old friend, and 
had them fined and impi-isoned. 

At length it became necessary for Rhode Island to have a new charter in 
order to settle the difficulties that were constantly coming- up between the towns 
on the mainland and those on the island. W^illiams was beg-ged to go again to 
England, and finally consented, though lie had to sell his trading-house to do so. 



210 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

The colonists were not onl}^ unable to support their preacher and governor and his 
family, but actually tried in vain to raise money enough to pay his expenses wlien 
he went across the ocean on their own affairs. 

When he reached England the government was in such great disorder that he 
could do scarcely anything for his colony for some time. But he did not wait in 
idleness. Being an excellent scholar, he easily found pupils, and by teaching lan- 
guages to several young men, he earned money enough to pay the cost of his trip. 
Beside these duties, he wrote pamphlets, and spent a good deal of time in trying to 
relieve the sufferings of the poor miners, who were then out of work because of the 
tumult of the thnes. He became acquainted with Cromwell, who was then the 
*' Protector " of England ; with Sir Henry Vane, a wise and influential statesman ; 
and with the ardent Puritan patriot, John Milton, who had not yet written his 
great poem of " Paradise Lost,"' nor lost the use of his eyes. He and Williams 
became warm friends and spent many pleasant days together. 

Although Williams staid in England three years, he finally had to leave before, 
the matter of the charter was settled, for trouble had broken out in Rhode Island 
that made it necessary for him to return at once. So, leaving his business in the 
hands of Mr. Clark — who had gone with him from Providence — he went back as 
soon as he could to make peace. At last he was rewarded. In August, 1654, 
after ten years of quarreling, the towns all united in a union and chose Mr. Williams 
for their president. 

When, ten years after Williams left him, Mr. Clark came back with the char- 
ter, it was received with great joy and was at once put into operation. The first 
governor w^as a man named Benedict Arnold. Roger Williams — beside being 
chief pastor to the whole colony — was one of his assistants and for twelve years 
everything moved along quietly and j)leasantly. 

Mr. Williams was growing old now ; but he was strong and able still ; and 
when not busy with public duties, attended to his ])rivate business, wrote religious 
tracts, and preaclied to the Indians. Then came the terrible scenes of King Philip's 
war. The Narragansetts could no longer be kept from joining the other savages 
in a general attack upon the pale-faced usin-pers. When the dusky warriors 
were seen coming toward Pi'ovidence, to treat the j^eople there as cruelly as they 
had used the other settlers, Mr. Williams — then over seventy years old— took his 
staff and went out to meet them. The old chiefs, who knew him well, came towards 
him and told him that they were still his friends, but that the young warriors were 
so l)itter against all the white men that it would not be safe for him to go among 
them. So he returned to the settlement and joined in the fight. The war lasted 
a year, only ending with the death of King Philip and almost the entire destruction 
of the savages. 



William Penn. 



211 



About a year aftein\'^ard, the venerable hero, the friend of the oppressed every- 
where, and the founder of Rhode Island, passed quietly- awa^'. 

Rog-er Williams was born at Conwyl Cayo, Wales, in the 3^ear 160G. He died 
at Providence, Rhode Island, in 1G83. 




William Penn. 

Nearly half a century after the settlement of Jamestown and about twenty 
years after the Pilg-rims landed, there arose in Eng-land a class of people called 
Quakers. The doctrines which they believed were so forcibly preached by their 
leader that mam^ people began to join their society. 

Among these was William Penn, the son of a distinguished admiral in the 



212 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

British Navy. This man — the father — stood in great favor with the king- and 
the Court, and when he heard that his son William — whom he had sent to col' 
lege and of whom he expected g-reat things — was turning Quaker, his rage knew 
no bounds. He declared that no son of his should leave the good and regular 
Church of England and join a despised sect. Finding that argument had no effect, 
he tried a sound thrashing, and when this, too, failed to change the opinions of the 
willful son, he turned him out-of-doors. 

William was then eighteen years old. He had been finely educated, was well 
built and robust, and with a mind strongly inclined to religious thoughts. He 
alread,y believed so flrmly that the doctrines of the Quakers were right in the 
sight of God that nothing could induce him to renounce them. Seeing this and 
being begged l\y his wife to take back his harsh words, Admiral Penn sent to his 
son to come home, where he would be protected from the general Quaker perse- 
cution by his father's high standing-. 

But his friends in the new religion did not fare so well. All the rest of the 
society were sorely ill-treated by the riders. Even he was arrested while preaching 
in the streets and imprisoned on a charge of disturbing the peace, although he was 
soon released as not guilt3\ 

After that event his father sent him to France, thinking that the gay company 
he would have there would cool his religious fervor. But it did not do so. He 
continued to preach and to teach and to write on the subject that interested him 
above all others. He went on his preaching- tours through England, Holland, 
and Germany, and in all places he was aroused b^^ the sufferings of the peace-loving* 
Quakei's. The^^ were fined, robbed, hnprisoned, and ill-treated in many other 
ways, all on account of their beliefs. While Penn was studying how to procure 
relief for them, George Fox, the great leader of the Quakers, begged him to do 
something for those in Lord Baltimore's colony in America. This led him to think 
of the New World as a place of refuge for all of them. 

The king had become indebted to Penn's father — who was now dead — for a 
large sum of mone}'. Penn went to him and asked him to pay the debt by grant- 
ing him a tract of land in America. After awhile the king agreed to do so, and 
made over to Penn about forty thousand acres of territory north of Virginia Avhich - 
was alrc^ady settled by a number of Quaker refugees. The only claim reserved 
by the king was that he should receive a payment of two beaver skins every 3'ear. 

Now, at last, Penn had a refuge for the followers of the Quaker religion, and a 
large number of them were soon persuaded to leave their unhai^jiy homes in 
Europe and form a colony in the New World. He wished to name the country 
New Wales, but the king insisted upon calling- it Pennsylvania — not in honor of 
William, as many people think, but of his father, who was a friend of the king. In 



William Penn. 213 

February of the next year Penn with eleven other men boug-ht East New Jersey, 
which was then a flourishing- colony, and in September he sailed for his new pos- 
sessions, where he was cordially welcomed by the Friends already there. He had 
made out a form of g-overnment and laws for the colony before leaving- Eng-- 
land, and his first work after arriving was to make peace with the Indians. He and 
the other leaders in the colony met a larg-e company of the I'ed men under a great 
elm-tree by the side of the Delaware, and all agreed that they would live on terms 
of peace and friendliness for each other as long as " the creeks and rivers run, and 
while the sun, moon, and stars endure." No oaths were made, nor long- articles 
of agreement drawn up, yet the bond was never violated, " the only treaty in his- 
tory that was never sworn to and iievei" broken." The Indians always remem- 
bered the great "Mignon," as they called Penn, and each g-eneration told their 
•children of his justice and goodness. They butchered and scalped and burned the 
dwellings of other settlers, but the peace-loving-, drab-coated Quakers were never 
disturbed. 

Penn's next work was to provide for a capital city where the seat of the colo- 
nial g-overnment mig-lit be made. He purchased the necessar}^ land of the 
Swedes, who had bought it of the Indians, and named it Philadelphia — the City 
of Brotherly Love — hoping- that the inhabitants would always carry out the spii'it 
of its name. 

When the g-overnment of the colony was settled in good order Penn returned 
to England. Here he found that during- his absence his Quaker brethren had been 
very badly used. He went to the king" and obtained a promise that the persecu- 
tion should be stopped at once, and it was in a g-reat measure. 

A few months afterward Charles II. died and James II. took the throne. He 
and Penn were intimate friends and much of their time was passed tog-ether. Penn 
was known to have so much influence with King James that people crowded to his 
house to beg' him to ask royal favors for them. At that time there were many 
people shut up in the prisons of Eng-land, because their religious beliefs differed 
from that of the Established Church of Eng-land ; and one of the good causes 
Penn Avon with the king Avas to have all these people set free. Among them were 
twelve hundred Quakers. 

It was ten years before he went back to his colony in America. During this 
time James II. was deposed and William of Orange was placed on the throne ; and 
Penn, as the friend of the former king-, was accused of treason and put in prison ; 
and although he was soon acquitted, his liberty did not last long", for a new charg-e 
was raised against him, and he was obliged to keep out of the way of his enemies, 
and also to lose many of his former friends. In the midst of this trouble his wife 
died, and he was deprived of the g-overnment of his colony in America. These Avere 



214 One Hundred Farnous Americans. 

dark days, but he spent them profitably, writing- treatises for the comfort and de- 
fense of the Friends, and devising- means of helping- the colonists in Pennsylvania 
out of the troubles that had come upon them through bad manag-ement during- his- 
long- absence. 

At last his accusers lost their influence with the king- ; he was ag-am made gov- 
ernor of his colony, and, after attending- to various business matters and church 
interests, he embarked once more for America. He found affairs in Pennsylvania 
in a very bad state. Ill-feeling- had grown up between the Quakers and the other 
members of the colony, and many other matters had gone wrong. He set about 
instituting- a better g-overnment at once, and began looking after the condition of 
the neg-ro slaves and the Indians within the colony. Another treaty was made 
with the red men, presents were exchang-ed with them, and they agreed to look to 
the King- of Eng-land as their protector. 

While thus occupied in making- better the condition of all the people in the 
colony, Penn heard that there was talk in England of taking it away from him 
and returning it to the crown, so he had to hurry back and attend to the matter. 
His last act before leaving America — for what proved to be the last time — was to 
give a charter to the city of Philadelphia. 

Soon after Penn's arrival in Eng-land, the king decided not to take possession 
of the colon}" ; but other troubles came up, more dissensions among the settlers, 
and more persecutions for the Quakers in their native land, so that the last days 
of the peace-loving old man were filled with tidings of strife, where he had labored 
most for harmony. 

His own life, too, was filled with g-rief in his last ^^ears. Unfaithful ag-ents had 
so badly managed his property that his fortune was lost and he was put in prison 
because he woidd not pay these agents some unreasonable sums that they claimed 
to be due them. He had some g-ood friends, though, who secured his release. 
Then he asked the Legislature of Pennsylvania to loan him some money to help him 
out of his difficulties, but the^^ refused. This was one of the greatest sorrows of 
his life, for he had g-iven his work, his time, and a great deal of money to help the 
colonists in many ways ; and now that he was old and in distress their ingratitude 
almost broke his heart. 

William Penn was born in London, England, October 14, 1G44. He died at Rus- 
combe, Berkshii-e, England, July 30, 1718. 

At the time of the French and Indian War — about twenty years before the 
Kevolution — the country that now forms the State of Kentucky was a wooded 
wilderness, used by the Indians only for hunting'. " Kan-tuck-kee " they called 
it, meaning- the dark and bloody ground. Soon after the close of the war — in 



Daniel Boone. 215 

1763 — a few bold white hunters crossed the mountains that guarded it on the east, 
and begun to explore its resources. Among- them was Daniel Boone. He was 
a native of Pennsylvania, though he had lived in North Carolina since he was 
eighteen years old. He was a grown man by this time, with a family and quite a 
reputation throughout the country for his intelligence and his adventures. Much 
interested in the little he learned about the hunting-grounds of the Indians, he 
made up a party after a few years, to explore its wilds. It was a most discourag- 
ing trial. Boone himself, and his brother who joined them later, were the only 
ones who escaped from the Indians. Alone they passed the winter in the vast 




Daniel Boone. 

forest, savage beasts and savage men their only neighbors. In the spring the 
brother went home for supplies, and Daniel spent three solitary months in the little 
hut and its grand and beautiful surroundings, until the brother returned with 
horses, food, and powder. Then they went on with their explorations until early 
in the next spring. The wonders of beauty and richness they found can scarcely 
be imagined even in the fair Kentucky of to-day. Then it was perfectly fresh, un- 
worn, unmarred by man in any way, and much of it still shrouded in delightful 
mystery. Thoroughly charmed with the region, the brothers resolved now to go 
North Carolina, get their families, and return with them to the new country and 
there make their home. 



21G One Hundred Famous Americans. 

It was two years before they could make all the necessary arrang-ements. But 
at last they were ready and off. Five otlier families had joined them, and it was 
a happy party of forty that set their faces noi'tliwestwai-tl to tind under the leader- 
ship of Boone a new home in a fair, i-ieli countr^^ beyond the mountains. Wives 
and children were fixed to ride as comfortably as possible; clothes and cooking-- 
utensils were carried by pack-horses, and a herd of swine and cattle were driven 
on before. For some time they went along- without any serious mishap. But 
suddenly the pleasant expectation of the travelers was turned into fear and coii- 
fusion. A party of Indians fell upon the rear of the line and killed a number of 
the company, among- them Boone's youngest son. This put a stop to their prog- 
ress, and instead of pushing- further into the territor3^ of the savag-es, they turned 
aside and settled in A^irginia. But Boone was yet to found a settlement in Ken- 
tucky. 

The Govei-nment, having- heard of the fine lands across the mountains, proposed 
to give portions of it to the Virg-inia heroes of the French and Indian War. It 
was necessary, therefore, to have these lands sinn^eyed, and who was so able to help 
in the work as Boone, who had already spent two years in exploring- them ? He 
willingly undertook the work, and when it was done the governor appointed him 
to lead a for-ce of colonists against some Indians who were disturbing- the settlers on 
the Virginia frontier along- the Ohio. After successfully routing- the troublesome 
savag-es, he returned to his family and found that the little company had recovered 
from their fright about the Indians and were now anxious to go on to Kentucky. 
Another company was also formed in North Carolina to assist in making settle- 
ments, and Boone was chosen g-eneral manager and surveyor for the whole part3'. 
After a time, they ag-ain set out for the West. On reaching- the Kentuckj^ River 
the}' received another attack from the Indians and ag-ain a few of their number 
were killed. But this time the}^ kept on, and when in April, 1775, the patriots in 
Massachusetts were eng-aged in the battle of Lexington, the pioneers in Kentucky 
were building a fort and founding- the settlement of Boonesboroug-h. Here the 
women and children were brought, and home life among white people began in 
Kentucky. Boone's wife and daughter were the first white women, it is said, that 
ever stood upon the banks of the Kentucky River. 

The fort was a sure protection against the Indians as long as the settlers kept 
within it ; but to venture out was dangerous. The Indians were ahvays prowl- 
ing- about, watching all that went on, and sometimes capturing those who went be- 
yond its protection. But Boone had great skill in dealing with the red men, and 
usually recovered the cai)tives, and also made his own escape when — as it hap- 
pened once or twice — he was himself taken. 

He Avas in many respects a wonderful man. He had a clear and well-balanced 



Daniel Boone. 217 

mind, and was able to do successfully whatever he undertook. Without knowing- 
an^'thing- about politics, he kept up an isolated settlement on the frontier, and with- 
out having- any military knowledge, he Avas one of the most formidable foes the 
Indians ever met with. An author who loved noble traits in men once said 
of Boone : He was seldom taken by surprise, never shrunk from dang-er, nor 
faik^d beneath exposure or fatigue ; he knew nothing- of engineering- as a sci- 
ence, yet he laid out the first road through the wilderness of Kentucky and es- 
tablished the first fort there. He had few books and read little, but he thought 
a great deal, and was in his way a philosopher of calm and even mind. He was 
plain and unpoetical, with wonderful love for the beauties of nature. His simple, 
retiriuig manners never altered into rustic rudeness ; and, bold and unsparing- 
as he was in warfare, he was fair and kind to all creatures — a thoroughly hu- 
mane man. His wants were no greater than his I'ifle and the wild woods could 
supply, while the constant danger in which he lived for many years made him 
only circumspect, not uneasy and suspicious. His love of adventure kept his life 
full of inspiration, while the trials and dangers through which it took him added 
to his character a serene patience and fortitude. Robust, compactly knit in figure, 
honest, intelligent, and chivalrous in nature, he excelled as a sportsman, and won 
the respect of his savage captors by his skill and fortitude. More than once, with- 
out violence, he freed himself from their imprisonment, revealing- their bloody 
schemes to his countrymen, and meeting them on the battlefield with a coolness 
and swiftness that awoke their admiration as much as their astonishment. Again 
and again he saw his companions fall before their tomahawks and rifles ; his 
daug-hter he rescued from the red men's camp, to which she had been carried from 
his very door ; his son fell before his eyes in a conflict with the Indians who opposed 
their immigration to Kentucky ; his brother and his dearest friends were victims 
either to their strateg-y or violence ; his own escape from death at their hands was 
due more than once to the mfluence he had obtained over them by tact and 
patience, and to his sure, swift action when the chance came to flee from them. 

Once when Boone was a prisoner in the Indians' camp — captured while g-athering- 
salt near the fort — the chief came to like him so well that he adopted him to take 
the place of his lost son. His only course was to appear satisfied, but he was 
keenly on the watch for all the movements of the red men, and linall^^ learned that 
they were planning- an attack upon Boonesborough. He swiftly resolved to 
escape, and warn the settlement of the dang-er. In a short time he managed to 
get away, and, traveling a hundred and sixty miles in five days, he astonished 
his friends by appearing among them long- after they had lost all hope of his 
being- alive, and his wife and children had g-one mournfully back to their old 
home in North Carolina. The fort was ciuickly prepared for an attack from the 



318 One ITnndrod FamoK.s Aincrirttiis. 

Indians, who soon came, foiu" liiiiulrod and fifty strong-, ag-ainst a little band of 
seventy. After nine days of fig-Jding- tlic Indians g-avc tip and left tlio fort slUI in 
theliands of Boone and his col()n_\'. 

When all was safe he went after ids fandiy and brougiit tliein bacl< to BooIu^s- 
borougli in 1780. Here he remained l"or twelve years, enju^-ag-ed in iini)roving' and 
enlarg-ing- the settlement and occasionally liirning- out ag-ainst tlu^ iiostilc lri(lia,ns, 
wlio succeeded now and Hum in capl urini^- sonu' beloved incnduM' of the colony, but 
were for the most pai't kept well at bay. 

The fair lands of Kentucky beg-an after awhile to be in great dciuaud. Those 
who owned the rich acres could sell tlu'iu at a iiigh price, and sonic of 1 he (!ar]y 
settlers were now rewar(kHi in wealth for the har(lsiii|)s Ihcy iiad endured. JJoone, 
being- one of the llrst aiul greatest of these, supposed thai he owned (piite a good 
deal of the land he had discovered, explored, and colonized. But shai-p men 
found out that his papers were not legal, and that he coidd not, liold his land. 
Hardy and heroic as he was, he was also too modest and dillldent, to be able to 
quarrel about what was justly liis, so in Ids old age lie left Kentucky to those 
more bold foi' wealth and less high-pi'incipled than himself and reti'eated into the 
wild i-egions of Missouri, which had not yet been invaded by those who folhjwed the 
sturdy settlers to reaji the benefit of their pioneering-. There he receixcd a grant 
of land from Spain, but lost it also through a mistake in the title pai)ers. 

After this second misfortune he wrote a simple, touching- letter to the people 
of Kentucky, asking them to help him to g-et a clear title to at least part of his 
lands, saying, " I have no place to call my own, whereon to lay my bones ; " and 
as in those days it was one of a man's lirst duties to set aside and prepare a burial- 
ground foi- himself and his family, the people were g-reatly touched. The State 
begged ten thousand acres or more of Cong-ress, and the g-ift was granted ; but 
the lawyers who came in betwecMi the giver and the receiver cheated the lieroic 
old man out of even this, and he " who had helped to conquer an empire died land- 
less at last." But his memory was not without honor. 

On a n aidiunn day, about thirty yea rs ago, a heai'se, garlanded with evergreens, 
was slowly drawn by whiU; horses through the main street of Frankfort, Kentucky. 
It was the second funeral of Daniel Boone. His remains lay in the cheny-wood 
coflin he had poli.shed himself in the rude and lonely cabin on the banks of the 
Missouri, and they were then being- removed l)y tlie State, to the public cem- 
etery of the capital of Kentucky. People said it was but just that these ceremo- 
nies of love and respect should be paid to the memory of the noble and defrauded 
old pioneer, who lirst explored their fair State, when the elk and buffalo held undis- 
puted ])ossession with the Indian ; when its dark forests were the contestt^d boimd- 
ai-y between the Cherokees, Creeks, and Catawbas, of the South ; and the Swanees, 



Leivis and Clarke. 219" 

Delawares, and Wj^andottes, of the North; and the deep glades of the forest 
primeval were stained with the warrior blood of the red savages. 

Daniel Boone was born in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, 1735. He died in 
Missouri, in 1820 or 1822. 

During- President Jefferson's administration, the famous Lewis and Clarke 
Expedition was sent out by the Government to explore the Missouri River from, 
its mouth to its source, to find the shortest distance from there to the headwaters 
of the Columbia, and then to trace that river to the Pacific Ocean. 

Jefferson, who was very much interested in the project, stated to Congress 
that he thought that his private secretary, Merriwetlier Le\vis, would make 
an able commander of the expedition ; he was a young Virginian of great promise 
and some experience ; he had helped to quell the " Whisky Insurrection "" in Penn- 
sylvania ; and — though now but twenty-six j^ears old — had risen to the rank of cap- 
tain in the regular army. Congress thought well of the suggestion and placed 
Lewis in charge of the scientific portion of the expedition, while William Clarke, 
a soldier who had seen a good deal of Indian Avarfare, was made military commander. 

After that the rest of the company was gathered together, and when all ar- 
rangements were made, a little band of thirty men started out in the fall of 1803. 
Beside the two commanders, there were nine young Kentuckians, fourteen soldiers 
from the United States Army, two French boatmen, an interpreter to speak with 
the Indians, a hunter, and a negro servant. They traveled as far as the Wood 
River on the eastern side of the Mississippi, and then made up their camp for the 
winter. Halting there until the spring, they passed their time in drilling, so as to 
be ready to meet the Indians that would be sure to object to their presence, and 
in preparing their stores so that the}' could be easily carried. Their luggage was 
a very serious matter, because as they were going far away from civilization, they 
had to take with them almost everything they should need — clothing, working 
utensils, fire-arms and ammimition, scientific instruments, and a large quantity 
of presents for the Indians. These were perhaps the most bulky, unhandy objects 
of all, being richly laced dresses, coats, flags, knives, tomahawks, bead ornaments, 
looking-glasses, handkerchiefs, paints, and other things particularly pleasing to 
the savages. But during the winter the men got them all packed in large bales 
that were easily loaded in boats, when the party was ready to break camp. Hir- 
ing some boatmen to take them as far as the country of the Mandan Indians, 
they set out in very good condition as soon as spiing had fairly opened. There 
were five boats in the stream and two horses were led along the banks to be used 
in carrying the game, which was very plentiful and fiu^nished nearly all the food 
needed during the summer. Each day the}' journeyed from ten to twenty miles. 



220 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

and at iiig-ht they encamped iii:»on tlie banks of the river. A number of the men 
kept journals of each day's happenings, wliile the leaders made careful record of 
their scientific obsei'vations. 

Dufin.i^- the months of May and June they passed the mouths of the Osage, 
Kansas, and Platte tributaries to the Missouri, and in July the^^ entered the coun- 
try of the Ottoe Indians. They held a meeting with the chiefs and promised them 
that if they would be quiet and peaceable their " g-reat father," the President, would 
protect them from their enemies. Between the mouths of the Platte and the Sioux 
Rivers they found the work of surveying- the course of the Missouri very difficult 
on account of its zigzag Avindings. Part of the time they were in Iowa and part 
of the time in Nebraska until they reached the land of the Sioux Indians. Then 
lor some distance the ground was well known to the men who had traded with 
that friendly tribe. Making their way easily for a time, thej^ soon rounded the 
Great Bend, passed the Cheyenne, and in the last of October the}" reached the 
country of the Mandan Indians, over sixteen hundred miles above the mouth of the 
Missoui'i. 

It was their plan to encamp here for the winter, antl, when the Indians flocked 
about their boats, the explorers asked to hold a council with them. Agreeing to 
this, the chiefs and first men of the tribe met Lewis and Clarke, and listened to 
tlieir speeches with attention, wliile they told them that the "great white father" 
wished to live in peace with them and to have them live in the same way with their 
neighbors, and said that this party had no desire to disturb them in an^^ way. 
Then presents were given to them; to the first chief of each town, a flag and 
a medal with the likeness of the President upon it, a uniform coat, hat, and feather ; 
to the second chiefs, a medal representing- some domestic animals and a weaving- 
loom ; and to the third, medals representing a farmer sowing grain. Among 
a number of other presents that were distributed among the people, one that 
seemed to please them best was a corn-mill for grinding the kernels taken from 
the ear. They had never seen anything like it before, and it interested them 
very much. 

In return for these gifts the Indians brouglit buffalo robes and quantities of 
coi-n to their courteous white visitors ; they paid many friendly visits to the camp, 
and gave Captain Clarke much valuable information about the great Louisiana ter- 
rit(n'y around them. 

After building some cabins and a fort, which they named Fort Mandan, the 
explorei's spent the winter in making maps of the ground that had been gone 
ov»'r, surveying- the poi'tion of the i-iver near them, in hunting, studying the 
wa\s of llie Indians, and collecting specimens of earth, salt, mmerals, and plants, 
wliicli were all labeled with the date and place in which they were found. These 



Lewis and Clarke. 221" 

were packed and forwarded to President Jefferson on the 7th of April. 1805, 
the day. on which the party broke camp and left the villag-es of the friendl^^ 
Mandans. 

Pushing- steadily on in their march, they passed the mouth of the Little Mis- 
souri, then that of the Yellowstone, and for over a month afterward traveled due 
west. Now and then they met a bear — Captahi Lewis had a couple of narrow 
escapes from them — but for the most part it was a steady and novel, though not an 
exciting, journey across the country, till, in the course of two months, they reached 
the junction of two larg-e rivers. Here they met a difficulty— which was the 
Missouri ? It would not do to take the wrong one, for the}" would then lose a whole 
season in following it and in retracing- their steps. They questioned the Indians, 
but could learn nothing- from them. All the men thoug-ht that the northern fork, 
with its deep channel and turbid Avaters, must be the Missouri ; but the two cap- 
tains, who judg-ed from their scientitic observations, thoug-ht that the southern 
stream was probably the main river. To settle the matter Captain Lewis took a 
few men and pushed forward on that one, while Captain Clarke made some exam- 
ination of the other. They knew for certain, from traders and Indians, that some 
great falls occurred in the real Missouri not far from its source; and so. when, 
on the third day of his tramp. Captain Lewis heard a faint roar in the distance, he 
was pretty sure that they were on the right track. Hastening' forward, he soon 
saw a cloud of vapor arising, and in a short time his little band reached the great 
falls of the Missouri. 

Sending a man back with the news to the rest of the party, the captain began 
at once to examine the cataract. He soon became so absorbed in its grandeur and 
beauty that he forgqt that he was in a wild country whose inhabitants did not 
always g-ive strangers the pleasantest sort of a welcome ; he even forgot that his 
rifle was unloaded, and was only aroused to these facts when he suddenly saw a 
huge brown bear close upon him. There was no time to load his rifle, so he plung-ed 
into the river, hoping- that the bear could not follow. For a few moments this 
seemed to be a mistake, for bruin followed him close to the water's edge : then it 
appeared to be frightened at something and hastened away. 

In a couple of days Captain Clarke arrived and the party took up its march 
toward the source of the river. In about two weeks they came to the g-reat pass, 
"The Gates of the Rocky Mountains," whei'e the river breaks through the steep 
rocks at the bottom of a deep g-orge between five and six miles long-. Further on, 
they found another junction in the stream. Here there were three branches of 
about equal size, and another discussion arose ; but it was soon decided that the 
most westerly stream was the true Missouri. Naming- the three branches after 
the President, Jefferson ; the Secretary of State, Madison ; and the Secretary of the 



222 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Treasury, Gallatin, \hey took the Jefferson fork and on the 12th of Aug-ust arrived 
at the sprin<4-head of the Missouri, three thousand miles from where it pours into 
the Mississippi, whence they had started a year and a half before. 

One-half of the work was now done ; the other half was to find the source of 
the Columbia and trace its course to the Paciflc. The courageous pioneers climbed 
the mountains before them, and were the first white men to stand upon the sum- 
,mit of the famous rang-e of the Rocky Mountains which forms the water-shed 
between the Pacific and the central table-lands of North America. 

Before they had gone down three-quarters of a mile on the other side, they 
came to a small stream of clear water — the very waters that they soug-ht : it was 
the source of the Columbia. They did not know this, thoug-h, and feared to fol- 
low its course lest it should lead them astray. So they kept on in their chosen 
direction till they met a companj^ of Snake Indians, who told them that the stream 
they had passed became a larg-e river and flowed into the great ocean. But they 
also said that the country through which it ran afforded no food nor wood. Fi- 
nally, after much urging and the promise of many presents, some of the red men 
consented to guide the party over this unkiiown and dangerous region. 

It was impossible for them to follow this river in boats, as they had the Mis- 
souri, neither could they travel along its steep and rocky banks. They had to 
take the rugged Indian path across the mountains, stopping at the Indian villages 
on the way for rest and refreshment. Before this the party had met with ver^' 
little trouble from cold and hunger, but in these regions they came near starving 
several times; they had to kill and eat their horses and then to bu^- dogs of the 
Indians for food. 

Nearly a month was passed in this barren country before the party reached 
the place where the noi'thern and the southern forks of the great Columbia meet. 
From here, the guides said they could travel by water ; so canoes were made, and 
after naming the northern l)ranch after Captain Clai'ke, and the southern after 
Captain Lewis, they embai'ked on the water once more and went floating smoothly 
down the river. When they came to the great falls the Indians said they would 
have to take to land again, but the intrepid leaders thought the canoes would ride 
tlie cataracts, and, feeling lunvilling to sp(>nd the time and strength that would 
be necessary to carry all the baggage past the falls b^^ land, determined to 
take the risk. All the boats went over safely, and passed the still more danger- 
ous narrows below. After that it was a smooth journey to the mouth of the Co- 
lumbia, wliere they arrived at the close of November, 1805, having traveled more 
than four thousand miles. During the first week in December a place for the 
winter camp was found on a small bay of the Pacific coast, which they named 
Merriwether, the Clir-istian name of Captain Lewis. 



John Charles Fremont. , 223 

Early in the spring, they turned their faces homeward. Two months only 
were taken in retracing- their steps to the navigable portion of the Missouri ; and, 
once more afloat, it did not take them long to reach Fort Lewis, where they ar- 
rived May 22, 1806. 

The long, hazardous journey had been successfully made, its objects secured, and 
the reports of the part\^ were most valuable to the Government. Congress reward- 
ed the labors of the commanders by giving them large grants of land in Missouri. 
Lewis was made governor of the territory and Clarke general of the militia. Soon 
after they had gone to their new homes, Governor Lewis's health gave way, and, 
when not in his right mind for a time, he took his own life. 

Merriwether Lewis was born near Charlottesville, Virginia, August 18, 1774. 
He died near Nashville, Tennessee, October 11, 1809. 

General Clarke kept his command and the office of Indian Agent until 1813, 
v^^hen President Madison appointed him Governor of the Missouri Territory. 
This position he held until the Territory was made a State, and after that he was 
Supermtendent of Indian Affairs until his death. 

William Clarke was born in Virginia August 1, 1770. He died at St. Louis, 
Missouri, September 1, 1838. 

The year 1828 saw the beginning of a new epoch in the United States — one of 
growth and prosperity. It opened when Congress adopted the " American Sys- 
tem " — ^that famous plan of President John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay to 
raise the tariff on foreign goods and use the revenue for internal improvements — 
and it received its mightiest impulse, three years later, when one of George Ste- 
phenson's new locomotive engines was brought over from England. Then people 
began to see that the distant portions of the land — if explored and surveyed — might 
be connected with each other. It was a faint glimmer of what has now come to 
pass, and with returning pi'osperity improvements went rapidly on. But it was 
a great work, and for a long time the region of the Mississippi was wild frontier, 
and all bej^ond was like a sealed book known to hold wonderful mysteries of lake 
and river, mountain and prairie, where only Indians could find their way. It was 
marked in the geographies as the " great American desert." 

At the beginning of this era, John Charles Fremont — who has done more 
than any other man to open up the West — was a remarkably bright bo^^ of fifteen, 
entering Charleston College, South Carolina. His especial forte was mathemat- 
ics ; and the year in which the first American locomotive was run, he became a 
teacher upon the sloop of war Natchez. The vessel had come into Charleston 
Hai'bor to enforce President Jackson's proclamation against the " Nullifiers ; " and 
when she sailed out on a cruise to South America, her post teacher of mathematics 



224 One Hundred Fanions Amet^ieans. 

was 3'oung- Fremont. He had not graduated from college, and had had but poor 
chances for an education before he had entered it, but he was able to liiltill his 
duties successfully. When he i-etui-ned after two oi- three years and found tluit 
the nav3^ had adopted the plan of having- professors of mathematics, he at once 
passed the rigid examination which enabled him to take such a position. 

But meanwhile the interest in opening up the country and building railroads 
had grown very fast, and Fremont decidcid to leave the sea and become a Gov- 
ernment survej^or and civil engineer. He helped to lay out the railroad routes 
through the mountain passes of North Carolina and Tennessee, and aftei' that he 
was one of a pai'ty that explored some of the then milvnown sections of ]\Iissouri. 
Before this latter work was finished he was promoted to the rank of second lieu- 
tenant of the map-making or topographical engineers ; and three years later, when 
he was twenty-eight years old, he had an unlooked-for appointment from the Gov- 
ernment to explore and survey the Des Moines River. 

Mr. Fremont was deeply in love just then with young Miss Jessie Benton, a 
daughter of a United States Senator fi-om Missouri. Her parents wei'e much 
opposed to having her marry a Government officer ; so it was with a heaAy heart 
that the 3'oung man set out for the frontier wilderness of Iowa, anci the land of 
the Sacs and Fox Indians along the Des Moines banks ; but he did his work well, 
and when he returned In the fall, the Beiitons agreed that since he was in every 
way worthy as a man they would forgive his being an officer and consent to the 
marriage. This happy event has been of importance to more people than to 
themselves alone ; for by her energy and powers of mind, Mrs. Fremont has not 
only been a direct help to her husband in carrying out the most important ex- 
plorations ever made under the United States Govermnent, but she has cheered 
and encouraged him to keep up lieart and push on through many j^ears of work 
and hardship, often clouded by injustice and disappointment. 

The expedition to the Des Moines settled the purpose of Mr. Fi-emont's life. 
He then learned enough of the great Western country to know that the Govern- 
ment and the citizens who were gathered along the Atlantic seaboard really knew 
almost nothing of the truth about the uninhabited portions of their land ; that the 
extravagant tales which had been told by adventurous traders and travelers were 
mostly false; that probably a great poi-tion of the country could be used for farm 
lands and manufacturing towns; and tiiat railway routes could probably be laid 
across the whole continent. 

Filled with a desire to ojien up these treasures of knowledge, he applied to the 
War Depai'tment for permission to siu-vey the whole of the territory lying be- 
tween the Missouri River and the Pacific Ocean. The reqhest was granted and 
means ]irovided for an expedition to be fitted out, especially to find a good route 



John Charles Fremont. 



22J 




.—LES Fremont. 



from the Eastern States to California, and to examine and survey the South Pass 
of the Rocky Mountains — the great crossing-place for emigrants on their way to 
Oregon. It was his owti wish to have this definite order, for he knew — tliough he 



226 Oue Hundred Faniotifi Americ<ui,s. 

did not then say so — that if the Goverment had this particular section explored 
and surveyed, it would fix a point in the emigrants' travel and also show an en- 
couraging- interest in their enterprise. 

On the second of May, with his instructions and part of his supplies, Lieuten- 
ant Fremont left Washington for St. Louis, which was then a good -sized town on 
the horder-land of the "Western wilderness. There he collected his party and fin- 
ished fitting- out the expedition. About twenty men joined him — mostly Creoles 
and Canadians who had been employed as traders for fur companies and who 
were used to the Indians and all the hardships of the rough life they should have 
to lead. Besides these men, he had a well-known hunter, named Maxwell, for 
their guide, and the celebrated mountaineer, Christopher Carson — or Kit Carson, 
as he was usually called — who was both bold and cautious, and knew more about 
the West than almost any hunter in the country. This was the little band that, 
armed and mounted, set out with their gallant leader on his first great exploring 
expedition. They found him a man full of determination and self-reliance, having 
skill and patience and many resources, and who g-rew stronger in his purpose 
when perils and discourag-ements lay in his path. His men were well chosen,, 
spirited, and adventurous, while most of them were also hardy and experienced. 

Most of the party rode on horseback, but some di^ove the mule carts that car- 
ried the baggage, instruments, and what food it was thought necessary to take 
along. Tied to the carts were a few loose horses and some oxen to be killed on 
1 he way for fresh meat. 

After they had crossed Missouri and reached Chouteau's Landing — where Kan- 
sas City now stands — they felt that their journey was really begun. Starting 
here at the mouth of the Kansas, they followed its winding- course across the 
noi-theastern corner of Kansas State and pushed on into Nebraska until they 
reached the barren banks of the Platte. Then they followed that stream, taking 
the direction of the Southern fork, when they reached the division, and following 
where it led almost to Long-'s Peak. Then they changed their line of march, and 
keeping near the banks of the Northern fork, pushed on to Fort Laramie. This 
was reached in safety in the middle of July, the travelers having- had only one great 
buffalo fight and one encounter with the Arapahoe Indians in the course of their 
journey. The meeting- Avith the Indians turned out a friendly one, thoug-h it would 
not lia ve been so but for Maxwell, who had traded with the tribe, and knowing the 
warriors, shouted to their leader in the Arapahoe language just in time to prevent 
a fray. The chief was riding on furiously, but at the sound of words in his own 
speech from the white men, he wheeled his horse round, recognized Maxwell, and 
gave his hand to Fremont with a friendly salute. 

At Fort Laramie reports were heard of trouble among- the Indians and white 



John Charles Fremont. 227 

people between the Platte and the Rocky Mountains, and the explorers were told 
that their lives would be in danger if they went an}^ further west until mat- 
ters were quiet again. But Fremont and his men thought that probabl}^ the 
stories were exaggerated, and resolved not to be daunted by them. So, after a 
few days of rest, they got ready to start out. Just as they were about to depart, 
four friendly chiefs appeared with a letter, warning Fremont of danger from bands 
of young Indian warriors if he went further. He received their warning very re- 
spectfully, thanked them for their kindness, and made a pretty little speech in an- 
swer to theirs : " When you told us that your young men w^ould kill us," he said, 
"you did not know that our hearts were strong, and you did not see the rifles 
which my young men carry in their hands. We are few, and you are man3^ and 
may kill us, but there will be much crying in your villages, for many of your young 
men will stay behind, and forget to return with your warriors from the moun- 
tains. Do you think that our great chief" — meaning the President — "will let 
his soldiers die and forget to cover their graves? Before the snows melt again, 
his warriors \\\\\ sweep away your villages as the fire does the prairie in the 
autumn. See ! I have pulled down my white houses, and my people are ready ; 
when the sun is ten paces higher, we shall be on the march. If you have anji.hing 
to tell us, you will say it soon." 

The chiefs were not expecting such words in reply, but they liked the bold spirit 
of the white man from the East, and what the3^ soon had to say was that they 
Avould send one of their young warriors to guide the part\'. It was a little favor 
of only one man, but it was everything to the explorers, for — as both they and 
the Indians knew — his presence in the party was sure protection for them against 
all the savages they might meet. Fremont heartily accepted the courtesy, and at 
evening the company set out for the distant region of the Rockies. 

Now their real difficulties began. Soon they entered a most desolate country, 
where, the interpreter assured them, they w^ere likely to die of starvation if they 
went very far. They had only food enough left to last for ten days, and the gallant 
leader called his men together and told them that he intended to push on, but that 
all who wished to had his permission to turn back. " Not a man," he says, 
" flinched from his undertaking." One or two, who were not very strong, he sent 
back to the nearest fort, but the rest kept close to him till their aim was reached. 
" When our food is gone, w^e'll eat the mules," said one of them. 

The most difficult part of the whole expedition was now ahead of them, and it 
was necessary to go as lightly weighted as possible ; so they hid all the luggage 
they could spare in the bushes or buried it in the billows of sand that were banked 
up near the Wind River. Then they carefully removed all traces of what they had 
done so the Indians would not discover their stores and steal them. A few days' 



228 One Hiuulred Fanions Americans. 

niarcli l)roii£;'ht tliera to tlie water-shed of the Pacific and Mississippi slopes, and 
then to the object of their search — the g-reat, beautiful South Pass. Instead of the 
rocky heig-hts they had expected, they saw a gentl}- rising sandy plain stretched 
beyond the gorge, and the much-dreaded crossing of the Rockies was an easy 
matter. Entering the Pass and going up into the mountains, they found the 
soui'ces of many of the gTeat rivers that flow to the Pacific. Further on, they 
discovered a beautiful ravine, beyond which lay the fair water called Mountain 
Lake — *'*' set like a gem in the mountains," and feeding one of the branches of the 
Colorado River. The expedition had now fulfilled its orders from the Government, 
but the leader did not give the word to return until he had gone up the loft}' heig'ht 
of AViiid River Peak — now known as Fremont's Peak — that stands in majestic 
g-randeur neai- the Pass. The smimiit was reached after a most difficult climb, 
and Fremont himself Avas the fii'st white man to stand on its nari-ow crest and to 
look out upon the country from the highest point in the Rock^^ Mountains. On 
one side lay numberless lakes and streams, giving their waters into the Colorado, 
which sweeps them on to the Gulf of California ; in the other direction he saw the 
lovely valley of the Wind River, the romantic home from which the Yellowstone 
cai-ries its waters to the Missouri, away to the east ; in the north he saw tjie snow- 
capped summits of the Trois Tetons, where the Missouri and the Columbia rise, and 
the lower peaks that guard the secret of the Nebraska's l)irth. Between, beyond, 
and all ai'ound were lesser peaks, gorg-es, rugged cliffs, and great walls of 
mountain rock broken into a thousand bold, fantastic figures, and standing up in 
weird and striking grandeur. A thousand feet lielow him, steep, shining ice- 
precipices towered above fields of snow gleaming spotless white. ''We stood," 
said Fremont, "where human foot had never stood before and felt the thrill of 
first ex])lorers." 

When the travelers Avere again at the base of tiic peak and all their explora- 
tions and discoveries had been carefully noted, and their specimens of rock, plants, 
and flowers gathered tog'ether, they turned their faces homewaixl. They found 
their hidden stores, made up their train once more, found the camp of the men who 
liad remained behind, and, glad with their success, took up the eastward march. 

A full report of the expedition was soon sent to Congress, and in a short time 
Fremont's discoveries became a subject of great interest in both Europe and 
America. One of the Senators, speaking on the report, said: All the objects 
of the expedition have been accomplished, and in a Avay to be beneficial to science 
and instructive to the general reader, as Avell as useful to the Government. Sup- 
])lied with the best astronomical and barometrical instruments, well qualified to use 
them, and accompanied by men trained to all the hardships and dangers of the 
prairies and the mountains, he has in an almost incredibly short space of time 



John Charles Frenumt. 229 

returned without an accident to a man, and with a vast amount of useful ohs(n-va- 
tions and many liundred specimens of geology and botany in tlie varieties of 
i:)lants, flowers, shrubs, trees and grasses, rocks and earths, which he has found. 
From Fremont's Peak he had brought some of the flowers tliat he found gi'owing 
beside his patli, a bee that had flown up to tliem soon after tliey readied tlie 
summit, the rocks that formed the peak, and the rugged shelving mountain above 
which it reared its icy, snow-capped head. Over the whole course of his extended 
trip, he has obtained the height both of plains and mountains, latitude and long- 
itude ; he reports the face of the country, whether it is arable or barren, whether 
traveling over it is easy or difficult, and the practicability of certain routes for 
public highways. The grand features of nature are clearly described in fitting- 
language, and in some cases he has illustrated them b^^ drawings. Military 
positions are pointed out, and in all other ways a thorough examination and sur- 
vey has been made of a vast portion of the national possessions which up to this 
time have been unused, unknown, and miappreciated. 

Europe and America praised the manner in which the expedition had been 
managed, and the Government, well pleased with the wonderful results he had ob- 
tained, appointed Lieutenant Fremont to set out on another journey at once and 
to complete the survey between the State of Missouri and the tide-water regions 
of the Columbia River. 

This was just what he wanted to do. A trip to the top of Wind River Peak 
and back had but revealed to him what vast secrets of the Western countrj^ tliei-e 
were yet to be discovered, and he lost no time in getting ready to return. With some 
of his old companions and several new ones, he soon made up a band of about 
forty men, who left Kansas with him just one year after the first expedition had 
started. The route this time lay in a northwesterly direction — before it had lieen 
almost due west. In four months they traveled over seventeen hundred miles, 
reaching the Great Salt Lake early in the autumn, and before winter began they 
had found the Columbia and followed it to its mouth. The same careful observa- 
tions and surveys were taken along the route of this journey as had made the 
other so valuable, especially in the region of the Great Salt Lake, about which no 
true accounts had ever been given before. 

Although Fremont had fulfilled the orders of the Government when he reached 
the mouth of the Columbia, this was really but a small part of what he intended 
to do upon this expedition. The vast region beyond the Rocky Mountains — the 
whole western slope of our continent — was but little known then in any way, and 
not at all with accurate, scientific knowledge. This, Fremont longed to go through 
and explore. At first he intended to begin doing so by returning home through 
the Great Basin — now Utah— between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Ne- 



230 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

vada ; but he took another direction finally — a route through almost an unknown 
reg-ion between the Columbia and Colorado — that led them further west, showed 
them California, and resulted at a later time in securing- to the United States that 
rich country, wliich was then owned b^^ Mexico. The cold winter came on almost 
before they had started, and they had not g-one far before they found themselves 
ill a desert of snow where there was nothing for either men or horses to eat, while 
between them and the fertile valleys of California was the rugged, snow-covered 
rang-e of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. They tried to g-et some of the Indians to 
show them the way over this g-reat harrier ; but the savages declared that it could 
not be crossed — no human being had ever crossed it, and no guide would consent 
to g-o with them for any amount of money. But they said there was an opening- 
further south, and gave Fremont some directions as to where it might be found. 
So the party took the risk of g-uiding themselves and kept on in their cold and 
desolate march. When the3^ reached the pass, it was only to see toward the 
west a still greater rang-e before them. It was plain that they would get lost if 
they attempted to push on alone, and they had g'one too far now to turn hack. 
At last they found a young- Indian who for a very large present would undertake 
to g-uide them. On the first of February they started out, and after a terrible 
journey of forty da^^s, they reached the Sacramento River, and a comfortable 
resting-place at Sutter^'s Fort, the place where g-old was found four years later. 
Half of their horses had perished, and the men were so weak and thin that it was 
two months before they were able to go on again. 

Fremont did not attempt to g'o any further into California ; but when the spring- 
opened and the men were well enough to travel, gave the word for home. They 
crossed the Sierra Nevada, and making- their route as nearly due east as possible, 
they passed by the Great Salt Lake, crossed the Rocky Mountains through the 
South Pass, halted at several places they had become acquainted with before, and 
reached the Kansas country in July. There the g-round was knoAvn to them, and 
the rest of the journey was quite smoothly and quickly made. 

By midsummer, Fremont had reported himself to the Government and was 
•once more with his family. He learned then that a letter of recall had been sent 
to him after he stai'ted ; but that his wife held it back, seeing- that it was upon 
some false charg-es made by his enemies at Washington. So he had really made 
this jom-ney as a fugitive, but Mrs. Fremont's act was a[)proved when her hus- 
band returned with a name that went over Europe and America for the great and 
valuable discoveries he had made in the northwest territory and the terrible hard- 
ships he had endured to make the expedition successful. 

In spite of the efforts that were made against him by some political opponents, 
Congress accepted his labors, g-ave him another appointment, and wlieii he again 



JoJiii Charles Frenioiii. 231 

went out — which was as soon as his reports were finished — it was with the rank 
and title of captain in the United States Engineers. His object this time was to 
find out more about tlie Salt Lake and other portions of the Great Basin, and to 
explore the coasts of California and Oregon. After several months of discovery 
and careful surve^^s of the streams and watersheds between, he again crossed the 
Sierra Nevada in midwinter and went down into the rich and beautiful country 
lining- the Pacific shore. This territory was then held by the Mexicans, and while 
he left his men at San Joaquin to rest, Fremont himself went on to Monterey, the 
capital, to ask of Governor Castro permission to explore his country. The request 
was g-ranted at first, but as news of the war between the United States and Mex- 
ico arrived just then, the permission was recalled with orders that the travelers 
leave the country at once. But this the dauntless captain did not intend to do, so 
he built a rude fort of log-s in a strong- position on the Hawk's Peak Mountain, 
about thirty miles from Monterey, and with his sixty-two men waited for an at- 
tack from the Mexican forces, which vmder General Castro encamped themselves in 
the plain below. They watched him for four days and then, deciding- not to fig"ht, 
allowed him to go on his way through the Sacramento Valley to Oregon. Before 
he had gone very far, he was met by a part}' that had been sent out to find him, 
with orders from the United States to act for his nation in case Mexico should 
form a treaty with England to jDass California into the hands of Great Britain. 
General Castro soon threatened to attack the Americans settled along* the Saci-a- 
inento, but before he had time to do so, Captain Fremont marched rapidly to their 
rescue, collecting them in his band as he went along, so that by the month of Jul}' 
the whole of northern California had passed out of the hands of the Mexicans and 
into those of the United States, and Fremont, the conqueror, was made governor 
of the land and raised to the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the army. 

Meanwhile the Government had resolved to make a sweeping conquest of the 
rest of the territoi-y, if possible, and have our possessions extend from ocean to 
ocean. Commodore Sloat, who commanded the United States squadron of the 
Pacific, seized Monterey, where Fremont soon joined him with a hundred and sixty 
mounted riflemen ; and at about the same time there arrived Commodore Stock- 
ton of the navy with orders from Congress to_ conquer California. The Mexicans 
still held the southern portion of the territory, but the towns of San Francisco, 
Monterey, and Los Angeles were all taken without much resistance, and at the 
end of six months the whole of Upper California was surrendered to the United 
States. 

When this was about completed General Kearney arrived with a force of dra- 
goons, and disputed Commodore Stockton's right to be military governor of the 
territory. A quarrel arose, in which Fremont took the side of the commodore. 



232 One Huncb^ed Famous Americans. 

who had made him major of the California battahon, and civil governor of the- 
rountry; but when the matter was carried to Washing-ton and settled by the 
Government in favor of Kearney, he recog-nized his position and obeyed his orders. 
But the general would not forgive his former allegiance to Commodore Stockton, 
and ai-i-ested him and made him return to Washington with his own men by tlie 
overland route, treating him very disrespectfully all the way. " My charges," 
said Fremont, "are of misconduct, military, civil, political, and moral, and such 
that, if true, would make me unfit to be anywhere outside of prison." He demanded 
a trial by court-mai-tial, which might have cleared him if he had taken pains to 
get evidence upon his innocence ; but as he did not, he was pronounced guilty of 
mutiny and disobedience and ordered to leave the Govermnent service. But 
the court requested President Polk not to confirm their verdict; he did not, and 
granted Fremont a pardon, with permission to keep his position in the army. 
This he would not accept ; he refused to receive as a favor that to which he had a 
right, or to go about as an officer pardoned of offenses he had never committed . 
So he resigned his commission, and at the age of thirt^'-five became a private 
citizen. 

Although he was still a young man, it seemed to him, for a time, that he had 
nothing to look forward to in life ; but he soon made up his mind to undertake 
another exploring expedition. This had to be on his own responsibility and 
at his own expense ; but he soon succeeded in getting a party together and fitting-^ 
it out. 

He was doubly anxious now^ to find some good routes from the States to the new 
possessions on the Pacific, for in February of this year— 1848— gold had been found 
on the Sacramento River, and many people were already starting out to dig for the 
precious ore. So far there was no direct route to Cahfornia. A long and dangei-- 
ous journey across Kansas, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada, and through the Rockies 
and Sierras could be made by land, or a voyage by way of the Isthmus of Panama 
could be made by water. These were the best possible ways of getting there- 
Fremont's desire was to find a route which could be made into a safe and direct 
public line of travel , and it was with this object in view that he soon started out witli; 
his little band. This time he went to the South, crossing the northern part of Mex- 
ico, and following the Rio Grande del Norte toward California. The beginning of 
the journey as far as Santa Fe was made successfully ; but from there it becanuv 
a tour of distress— the saddest Fremont ever undertook. The route lay througli 
a country inhabited by Indians then at war with the United States, which was. 
danger enougli ; i)ut added to this, winter w^as just coming on, and while they 
were in the most perilous part of their journey, among the snow-covered Sierra,, 
the guide lost his way. Finally tney were forced to turn back, but before they 



John Charles Fremont. 2X1 

could get to Santa Fe, one-third of their men had died of cold and hunger, and all 
of their mules and horses — over one hundred — had perished. 

Even this terrible experience did not alter Fremont's resolve to find if possible 
a southern pass to the Pacific coast. He hired thirty new men to g'o with him, 
and once more set out, more determined to succeed than ever. After a long- 
search, he was rewarded, for in the spring of 1849 — when the gold fever was get- 
ting to its height — with the cruel Sierra behind him, he again came in sight of 
the Sacramento River. 

Two years before he had bought a very large tract of land, on which there 
were rich gold mines, and he had resolved, when he left the States, to remain upon 
these after he had found a southern pass, and not go back to the East to live. So 
now he settled down, worked his mines, and began to prepare a home for his 
family. 

The enthusiasm about gold was drawing thousands of men to the Territory 
from all parts of America, and from Europe, so that California soon had enough 
people to become a State. Fremont took a great deal of interest in this growth 
in the counUy he had discovered to the United States and won for the Govern- 
ment, and he worked very earnestl^^ to have it made a free State. Meanwhile he 
was not forgotten at Washington. President Taylor soon called upon him to run 
a boundary line between the United States and Mexico, and when that was done, 
California having been taken into the Union, he was chosen bj^ the Legislature to 
represent the new State in the Senate at the national capital. 

It was during this term that the King of Prussia and the Royal Geographical 
Society of London awarded him the honor of their medals for his services as an 
explorer. 

He went to Europe after his term was over, and was treated with great respect 
by many of the most eminent people of the time. Mr. Fremont spent a few years 
at about this time in looking after his own affairs, but he had not yet given up 
exploring the great territory of the West. When — on his return from Europe — 
he found the Government preparing to survey three railroad routes across the 
continent, he again fitted out an expedition of his own to find out a good southern 
route to the Pacific. This time he was successful. He went without much diffi- 
culty to the place wiiere the guide had lost his way in the expedition of 1848, and, 
following the course, which had been described to him by the mountain men 
whom lie asked, he finally succeeded in picking out a route of safe passes all the 
way to the Golden State. But this was not secured without terrible hardships. 
The country was barren, bleak, and cold ; the provisions of the party gave out, 
and for fifty days the men lived on the flesh of their horses. Sometimes they had 
nothing at all to eat for fort^'-eight hours at a time. Progress, too, was slow. 



2^54 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

For awhile they only made a hundred miles in ten days ; and so deserted was the 
region that for three times that distance, they did not meet a single human be- 
ing, not even a hardy Indian, for the winter was unusualh' severe and even the 
savages did not venture far into the dangerous passes, where the air was thick 
and dark with snow and fogs. 

In this terrible distress Fromont feared that his men would be tempted to eat 
•each other; and so he calletl them to him one day, and in the solemn stillness of 
the great ice mountains he made them take off their hats, raise their hands to 
Heaven, and swear that they would instantly shoot the first man that should at- 
tempt to appease his hunger with the flesh of a comrade. 

Little b}^ little they kept pushing on ; and at last all obstacles were over- 
come, the fair California valleys were reached, and the jaded, frost-bitten band 
entered San Francisco. One man only was missing. He, poor fellow, was cour- 
ageous to the last, and died like a soldier, in his saddle ; and like a soldier his 
comrades buried him on the spot where he fell. The rest, though worn almost 
to skeletons, survived ; and Fremont forgot his suffei'ings in the joy of having 
gained the object of his journey. He had found for a certainty that a railroad 
could be built over the road he had taken, and that was a success of so great 
value to the nation that even the winter of distress to himself and his band and 
the sad loss of one br^ve man was a small price for it. 

The Central Pacific Railroad was begun in a few years ; and the region being 
richly stored with vast quantities of iron, coal, and timber, the workmen were 
supplied with much of their materials as they went along. In a dozen years more 
tlie g'reat task was completed, and cars were running from East to West, carrying 
tourists and emigrants b}' the thousands and spreading prosperity and civilization 
to the benefit of, not this nation alone, but of all people in the civilized world. 
The Northern and the Southern Pacific roads ha^-e followed the first one, open- 
ing up other sections, and calling forth and using the resources of the land all the 
Avay across the continent, placing our country first among all countries in several 
of the most important articles in the world's commerce. 

Among all the men who have devoted themselves to the success of these roads, 
there is no one to whom the nation owes more than to Fremont, who first sur- 
veyed the regions — northern, central, and southern — and who well merits the 
honor of the title, the " Pathfinder of the Rocky Mountaius." 

His map embraces the immense ai-ea of land extending from where the Kansas 
flows into the Missouri, to the cataracts of the Columbia, and the Missions of 
Santa Barbara and the Puebla de ios Angeles in Cahfornia. This represents 
about thirteen hundi-ed and sixty miles, or a space of longitude between the 
Ihirty-fourth and the forty-fifth i)aiall»'ls of north latitude, and was surveyed 



Charles Wilkes. 235 

with thermometer and barometer as well as land-measuring- instruments, so that 
the entire character of the country was shown. 

The survey of the Central Pacific was the last great exploration of his life. In 
185G he was almost elected President by the then new Republican party, in the 
iContest with James Buchanan ; he was also named for the next President, but 
(withdrew in favor of Lincoln. At the beginning- of the Civil War he was made 
major-general in the army, and during the first year had command of the Depart- 
ment of the Mississippi. He lost this because he ordered that slaves should be 
fi-eed by all in his district who were in arms against the Union. President Lincoln 
thought he was taking the step too soon, but gave him another command a few 
months later, from which he resigned in June, 18G2, and left the conflict entirely. 

After that he led a busy, quiet life, and stayed out of politics until about eight 
years ago, when he was made Governor of Arizona. His latest work is a book 
entitled the " Memoirs of my Life, by John C. Fremont." It tells a great deal 
about the history of our country's progress, in which he has taken a ver^' impor- 
tant part. 

Mr. Fremont was born at Savannah, Georgia, Januar3^ 21, 1813. He is now 
living at Staten Island, in a cottage overlooking New York Ba3^ 

One of the greatest scientific expeditions that the United States has ever under- 
taken was the Antarctic cruise planned and commanded by Charles Wilkes, 
then a lieutenant, and afterward rear-admiral of the navy. He had been in the 
Government service ever since he Was fifteen yeai's old, and was a scientist as 
v.'ell as a sailor. It was he who set up at Washington the first fixed observatory 
in the country, and there were many other important services that he had done 
for the Government, especiall}' in the interest of navigation. His object in this 
expedition, which he made successfully, was to explore and survej^ the great 
Southern Ocean, in the important interests of our commerce, whale-fisheries, and 
other enterprises ; to find out about all the doubtful islands and shoals, and to 
discover and mark on the charts the position of those islands and shoals that lie 
in or near the route followed by our merchant vessels, and which had been over- 
looked by other scientific navigators. 

The squadron of five vessels and a large body of excellent scientific officers, 
went out from Norfolk, Virginia, on the 18th of August, 1838 — three years before 
Fremont explored the Des Moines River and tw^elve years before the first Grinnell 
Expedition left New^ York. They first visited the Madeira and Cape Verde 
Islands, and then took their way to Rio de Janeiro, where they laid in port until 
January. Leaving- in a bod^^, they soon separated, each to fulfill its special 
errand — to the Antarctic continent and the manv islands and coasts of the South 



23G One Hundred Fcinious Aitierivans. 

Sea. After an absence of four years, they returned to the United States. havin^L^- 
completed a thorough scientific voj' age which extended around the world. The 
history of this ti-ip was aftei'ward told in five volumes, which came out about 
forty years ag'o, and was received with a great deal of interest in Europe and 
America. 

Lieutenant Wilkes was honored by the Royal Cleograiihical Society of Fi-ance 
and other institutions on both sides of the globe. 

Dui'ing- the Civil War he was the captain of the San Jacinto who boarded the 
British mail steamer the Trent and captured the Confederate commissioners to 
France, Mr. Mason and Mr. Slidell. At the time, this act was praised by tlie peo- 
ple and by Congress ; but President Lincoln and Secretary Seward disapproved 
of it — as it was on the same principle that we had fought against in 181 "3. Eng- 
land was so angry that if the prisoners had not been restored she would ha ve made 
war on us at once. 

Captain Wilkes was made a commodore before the close of the war ; he after- 
Avard became the commander of a squadron to the West Indies, and was raised to 
the post of rear-admiral in 1871. 

He was born in New York City in the year 1801, and died at Washington, 
D. C, February 8, 1877. 

Explorations in the Polar regions of North America began in the first part of 
the seventeenth century, and from that time to this almost all the important 
nations of the world have been continually making elforts to discover the ice- 
bound mysteiies of the Arctic cii'cle. Fi'om the first, the chief objects were to find 
water-ways around both continents connecting the Atlantic and the Pacific ( )ceans. 
The Northeast jjassage between Europe and Asia was successfully made about 
ten years' ago by Russian and Danish expeditions ; while the Northwest passage, 
which was first attempted by Sebastian Cabot and the brothers Cortereal, was not 
actually found until about the year 1845, in the last expedition of Sir John Frank- 
lin, who perished before he could make his discovery known. 

It was in search of this brave Englishman that the United States undertook 
its first inipoi'tant Polar expedition, in which our greatest Arctic exploivr, 
Elisha Kent Kane, made his first journey to the Arctic zone. 

The expedition was started by Mr. Henry Grinnell, a wealthy New York mei-- 
chant, aftei- Lady Franklin's appeal to oiu' Governnu'ut to send out a search pai'ty 
for her lost husband. Mr. Grinnell took up the enterprise at once. He laid the 
plans, and offered two vessels, supplies, exti-a pay to the men who would volunteer 
to go, and means for about all the otliei- expenses necessary to carry out the seai'ch 
and to make the expedition of scientific value Then lie used his influence to get 



El i slid Kent Kane. 237 

CongTess to take cliarg'e of it. A^ohinteer officers were called for from the navy, 
and at last everything- was ready and placed in command of Lieutenant De Haven. 

Dr. Kane was one of the under-ofificers — of no hig-her rank than assistant 
surg-eon. 

He was then a young- man of thirty years, whose life so far had been a con- 
tinual fig-ht against ill-health. He had been oblig-ed to g-ive up his early study of 




Elisha Kknt Kaxe. 

eng-ineering- on account of heart disease. Then he had fitted himself to become a 
physician and surg-eon ; but at the opening- of this career, his health had failed 
ag-ain. Instead of beg-inning to practice as soon as he had g-raduated — which was 
at the University of Pennsylvania — he had to make some plan for travel, in the 
hope of finding- a climate where he would not be an invalid. Before long- he joined 
the navy and was given the post of surgeon to tiie United States embassy to 
China. Gladly accepting- the chance for so decided a change, he embarked for the 



238 One Hundred Fainons Aniericans. 

Eastwitli Commodore Parker in 184;5. Three years he was g-one — years in which 
he visited the Philippine Islands, China, Farther India, Persia, Sj^ria, and portions- 
of Africa and Europe. Tliere was surely chang-e and adventure enoug-h in this 
tour — and Dr. Kane loved what is daring" and adventurous — but after many an 
exploit and curious experience, up the Himalayas, throug-li Greece on foot, up the 
Nile to Nubia, and on other novel and interesting- tours, he returned to America 
in worse health than when he left it. Still he would not g-ive up to being- an 
invalid, and almost as soon as he returned he started off again by an order from 
the Government to A-isit the west coast of Africa. Before he had been g-one a 3'ear 
on this trip he was sent home sick from a fever ; but he felt himself well enoug-h 
after he landed to be changed from the navy to the army so as to go to the Mexi- 
can War. Placed at the head of a command he immediately started southward to 
enter the conflict, which was alreadj'' beg-un some time before. On his way to the 
camp he fell in with a party of Mexicans and was wounded while trying- to save 
some prisoners from being- ill-treated by his own men. This quite disabled him, 
so that he had to return to his home in Philadelphia, where he lay ill until the 
middle of summer, and by that time the war was over. 

After g-oing back to the navy. Dr. Kane was ordered on a cruise to Brazil 
and Portugal, after which he was put upon the Coast Survey in Mexico. While 
on duty there he heard of Lady Franklin's efforts to g-et the Government to send 
out a party in search of her husband, and the hearty response which Mr. Grinnell 
had made to her appeal in offering to pay the expenses if the Government would 
midertake the responsibility- and furnish the men. When he learned that the plan 
had been agreed to by Congress, he wrote at once for permission to join the party. 
After quite a long delay, his request was answered by an order for him to go at once 
to New York and report for duty on the Arctic expedition — called in honor of Mr. 
Grinnell the Grinnell Expedition — which was then all ready to start from the 
Brooklyn Navy Yard. 

Although in the list of officers Dr. Kane started out as nothing more than an 
assistant surgeon in the Advance, when the expedition returned he had the hon- 
orable record of having been the most active and able man in the party, as sur- 
geon, naturalist, historian, and general helper. Through all their journey — which 
began on the 22d of May, 1850, and did not end until October of the next year — 
he was a zealous worker, on the watch for the object of their search, and wide- 
awake to all discoveries of the region through which they passed. He kept a 
careful account of what was done, what was seen, and all that happened in each 
day, records that were afterward published, and made a most valuable and inter- 
esting history of the expedition. 

Several times during the journey Dr. Kane was very sick, but his great interest 



Eli slid Kent Kane. 235) 

in all that was to be seen and done seemed to keep him from breaking down 
entirely. 

This expedition met some British relief ships in Lancaster Sound and accom- 
plished a journey as far north as a point in Baffin's Bay. They discovered many 
wonderful and important things about these regions that were before imknown 
to science, but they did not succeed in finding more than a very few traces 
of Sir John Franklin — the graves of three of his men, and a cairn or two and 
a small number of ai'ticles which some of them had lost or thrown away. This 
was but small success, but it gave hopes of more, so, a short time after the return, 
Mr. Grinnell offered the use of the Advance for another trip. This was put 
in charge of Dr. Kane, who had proved himself one of the greatest men of the 
first expedition and able to undertake much more than the duties of an assistant 
surgeon, great as they were at certain times, and nobl^^ as he filled them. 

In addition to his other w^ork he had formed a plan by which he thought the 
search could be made more successful than it had been. He believed from the 
observations he had made that Greenland extended even farther to the north 
than the American continent ; he also thought that it was safer to travel by land 
than by water when it was possible, and that by such a route the parties could 
keep themselves supplied with food by hunting. After his return he spent several 
months in carefully thinking these plans out, in laying them befoi'e prominent 
people interested in the search for Franklin, and in lecturing about them and what 
had been seen in the first Grinnell Expedition. In this way he aroused a great deal 
of enthusiasm in the project of another journey. Mr. Grinnell took it up and prep- 
arations went on very rapidly, aided by some of the wealthiest and most distin- 
guished citizens in the countr3\ Mr. George Peabody — the great banker — sent 
ten thousand dollars for it from London. Dr. Kane, too, gave freely of his own 
means and of the money he made by lecturing. Many others also joined in helping 
along the enterprise, and in May, 1853, three years after the first had started, the 
second Grinnell Expedition left the Brooklyn Navy Yard for the Arctic zone. 
This was far better provided for than the other had been ; it went out under the 
auspices of the Government and the greatest scientific societies of the country. 
Its chief object was to find the Sir John Franklin party, or at least to solve the 
mystery of their fate — for Dr. Kane still believed that some of the number must 
be living somewhere among the remote Esquimaux villages. 

During all this time Dr. Kane's health was very bad ; and when everything was 
ready, he was hardly able to write to Congress about it ; but he was too coura- 
geous to give up, and besides he knew he would be better in the colder climate. 

In this journey, as in the first one, Dr. Kane was historian. He has told us 
in his '' Arctic Explorations " the full story of the expedition. From New York 



2iij One Hundred Famous Americans. 

the Advance carried her parly directly to Greenland, where their first sight of 
the cold country of the north was the " broad valleys, deep -ravines, mountains, and 
frownini^- black and desolate cliffs " that burst into view from beneath the dense 
curtain of a liftiui;- fog-. Then, with iceberg's in full view around them, like castles 
in a fairy tale, they worked their way along- the western coast till they reached 
Smitli's Sound. Sometimes the commander would spend whole days in the " crow's 
nest" at the top of the mast, looking- out for the best course for the, vessel, and 
keenly watching- for all of interest to their search. The mag-nificent views which 
he saw from this lofty perch are often beautifully described in his book. In one 
place he says : " The midnig-ht sun came out over the northern crest of the g-reat 
berg-, kindling* variously colored fires on every part of its siu^face, and making- the 
ice around us one g-reat resplendency of g-em-work, blazing- carbuncles and rubies, 
and molten g-old." 

After being- tossed and crashed about for some time in the g-ales of Smith's 
Sound, it was found impossible to g-et the Advance thi*oug-h the ice to the shore ; 
so the^' left her there, and, fitting- up ice-sledg-es, set out on their search for the 
lost explorers and also to see if better winter quarters could be found for the brig-. 
The commander tells us in his book how both of these errands were in vain, and 
how they came back and lorepared to pass the long-, cold Arctic night in Rensselaer 
Harbor. Their stored and provisions were canned to a storehouse on Butler's 
Island, and provision depots were also established at intervals further north. This 
work was finished just as the " long, staring day," which had clung to them more 
than two months, was drawing to a close, and the dark night w^as beginning to 
settle down upon them. It was only at midday that they could see to read the 
figures on the thermometer without a light. The hills seemed like huge masses 
of blackness, with faint patches of light scattered here and there, made by the 
snow. The faithful journal records these days and their doings, relating sorrow- 
fully how the dogs fell sick from the darkness and the cold, and almost all of them 
died in a sort of insanity, ending in lockjaw ; and how great the travelei's felt this 
loss when the glimmering light of day told them that spring had come, and the 
time Avould soon be for them to go on. 

The stations which they had l)eg-un to set up in the fall were intended for pro- 
A-ision depots, so that when the explorers went out on their sledge journey's to 
search for the Franklin ]xirty, they would not have to go back to the brig every 
time they needed supplies. Now, when the first ra}' of light appeared, Dr. Kane 
sent out a partj^ with a load of provisions to establish another depot still further 
to the north ; but the}" were overtaken by a gale and lost their way. They Avould 
have died if three of the men had not been able to grope their waj^ back to the 
vessel. Benumbed and exhausted, they stumbled into the brig, unable to talk. 



Eli ska Kent Kane. 241 

But Dr. Kane knew their errand witliout the aid of words, and hurried to the res- 
cue of the others, with the strongest men in the boat. Guided ahnost by instinct, 
he soon found them liuddled tog-ether and barely alive. "• We knew you would 
come," they said ; " we were watching- for you." He and his comrades had had a 
long mai'cli to find them, and had taken no sleep meanwhile, so they were suffer- 
ing- themselves by this time ; but W\ej did not stop to rest ; it had to be (^uick 
work to save their comrades' lives. They sewed them up in thick bags of skin • 
then, putting- them in the sledges, the}^ started back to the brig. This was a 

journey of most terrible suffeiing from cold, hunger, fatigue, and sleeplessness 

for it was more dangerous to lie down to sleep in the cold than to keep on. 
After awhile nearly all the men were overcome with drowsiness and grew deliri- 
ous : they reeled and stumbled as they walked, and finally one sat down and 
declared that he would sleep before he stirred another step. Dr. Kane let him 
sleep three minutes and then awakened him, then another three minutes and 
awakened him, till he was quite rested. Tliis worked so well that all were allowed a 
few such shoi't naps before the march was taken ujd again. But in spite of all their 
efforts to keep up, all but three — Dr. Kane and two others — gave out before they 
reached the brig. These poor fellows stumbled on to the last, so delirious that 
they never could remember how they finally got to the vessel. There they were 
at once taken care of and fresh men Avere sent out after the fallen ones, who were 
only five miles away. Two of the party that were rescued died from the terrible 
exposure. All the others got well. 

A few more such attempts and perilous searches were made with ill-success and 
great sickness, and another winter came and went. Then, as the vessel was still 
so firmly frozen in the ice that it was impossible to get her out, Dr. Kane gave the 
order to leave her to lier fate, and to prepare for an overland journey to Uperna- 
vik, a whaling station on the west coast of Greenland. This was thirteen hundred 
miles away to the southeastward ; and, as all the stores the party would need had 
to be hauled from one station to another, the journey was a long- and tiresome one. 

Meanwhile the people at home were Avatching for ncAvs of the expedition and when 
the second winter came on and Dr. Kane did not return, they began to feel anxious, 
and fitted out a relief expedition to go in search of him. It left Ncav York at 
about the same time that the disabled explorers started on their southward jour- 
ney, and while it was sailing through the open seas of the North Atlantic, Kane 
and his men were struggling over ice and snow, all other thought lost but that 
of saving their lives. This was the most perilous journey of the whole expedition ; 
the toil and cold were severe enough, but besides these they had continually to 
cross gaps in the ice, in which they were drenched with water. When they reached 
a large opening and took to their boats— which they had to can^ over the ice— 



242 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

they were almost always in dang-er of being- crushed in the floes. But, worse 
than all these trials, was that of hunger. Their provisions ran so low that a fort- 
unate shot at a seal w^as all that saved them from starving several times. At 
last they caught glimpses of oj)en water, heyond the ice, and began to see sig-ns of 
liuman being-s ; a row-boat appeared, then a whaler, and finally they sig-hted the 
safe harbor of Upernavik. Here the rescue party found them, just as they were 
about to take passage in a Danish vessel for the Shetland Islands ; and the heroic 
little band of the Second Grinnell Expedition reached New^ York on the lltli of 
October, 1855. 

They had not succeeded in finding any of the Franklin party, which was a 
great disappointment to Dr. Kane and to all -yvho had taken pai-t in the expedition ; 
but thcN' had made such important discoveries and explorations that Congress 
awarded the gallant commander a gold medal ; the Royal Geographical Society 
of London gave him another, and the Queen another ; in fact, it is said that prob- 
ably no explorer and traveler, acting- in a private capacity as such, has ever re- 
ceived g-reater tributes of respect. 

Wluit the expedition did accomplish was to survey and make charts of the 
north coast of Greenland to where it ends in the great Humboldt glacier, to sur- 
vey this glacial mas^— which is beautifully described in Kane's book — and to ex- 
plore the new land beyond, which is named Washington. They also discovered a 
large channel to the northw^est, quite free from ice, leading- into an open and much 
larger body of water, also quite free from ice, which together form an iceless area 
of forty-two hiuidred miles that is now known as the Open Polar Sea. They dis- 
covered and made charts of a large tract of land north of the American continent, 
and took a complete survey of the American coast to the south and west as far as 
Cape Sabine. This survej^ adjoined to that of Captain Ing'lefield, made about a 
3^ear before, and completed the circuit of the straits and bay that are known at 
their southernmost opening as Smith's Sound. 

As soon as he reached home Dr. Kane set himself to work to prepare at once 
the " Nai'rativ(> " of the expedition. His health was unusually good when he 
returned, but this task — which would have been a great one for a man used to 
quiet writing habits — was more than he could stand. His strength began to fail 
i-apidly, and as soon as the books w^ere finished he was so ill that he sailed for Eng- 
land at once, hoping that that climate w^ould help him. In London he grew 
worse so fast, that he took passage for home by way of tlie West Indies ; but he 
never reached the end of the journey. 

Dr. Kane was born in Philadelphia, February 20, 1820. He ditnl at Havana, 
Cuba, February 10, 1857. 



Isaac Israel Hayes. 



243 



The next party tSiat left the United States for the Arctic reg-ions, the north- 
<east coast of America, was commanded by Isaac I. Hayes, who was surgeon 
on the Advance in Dr. Kane's last expedition. He, too, had retm-ned with the 
rescue party, firmlj^ believing- that an open Polar sea had been found, and he 
began at once to plan another expedition to make sure of this and to push other 
discoveries into the mysteries be^^ond the eighteenth parallel. 




Isaac Israel Hayes. 

Dr. Hayes was also a Pennsylvania man and had graduated from the Medical 
School of the University of Pennsylvania the year in which he started out with 
Dr. Kane. He was only twenty-one years old then, but he showed that he had the 
enterprise and the ability that is necessary to make a good exjjlorer. More than 
one of the sledge-journeys made from the Advance were in his charge, and he 
also did some of the most important chart-making work of the expedition. So, 
when he wanted to make up another party, his plan was encouraged by the 



244 One Hundred Fiwious Americans. 

Smithsonian Institution, tlio Government, and some of the most important scien- 
tific societies in tlie world. Five years after tlie second Grinnell Expedition 
returned, and three years after Dr. Kane's death, ho set out from Boston Harbor 
much better prepared for his luidertalving- than any former American expedition 
had been. 

The hardships which make up so large a part of the story of all Northern 
explorers fell in full share upon Dr. Hayes and his little band in the schooner 
United States. Such trials as were described in the account of Dr. Kane's jour- 
ney have been the experiences of all ^\\\o have ventured within the icy region of the 
Ai'ctic circle, thither for the help of men or the cause of science. Ice, snow, bitter 
cold, and often fatigue, hung-er, want of sleep, and lost bearings make the frame in 
which the picture of all that they have done is set. But to balance these trials, the 
explorers have found a great deal in those northern seas that is more g'rand and 
wondei'ful than the sights of any other part of the world. Of¥ the coast of Green- 
land Dr. Hayes wrote: " It seems as if we had been drawn by some unseen hand into 
a land of enchantment ; here was the "Valhalla of the sturdy Vikings, here the city 
of Sungod Fryer — Alfheim with its elfin caves, and Glitner, more brilliant than 
the sun, the home of the hajipy ; and there, piercing* the clouds, was Himnborg", 
the celestial mount. JLt is midnight; the sea is smooth as glass, not a ripple 
bi'caks its siu'face, not a breath of air is stirring'. The sun hangs close upon the 
noi-thern horizon ; the fog" has broken up into light clouds ; the iceberg-s lie thick 
about us ; the dark headlands stand boldh^ against the sky ; and the clouds and 
bergs and mountains are bathed in an atmosphere of crimson and g'old and purple 
most singularly beautiful. The air is warm almost as a summer night at liome. 
and yet there are the iceberg's and the bleak mountains. The sky is bright, soft, 
and inspii'ing as the skies of Italy; the bergs have lost their chilly appearance, 
and, glittering- in the l)laze of the brilliant heavens, seem in the distance like 
masses of burnished metal or solid flame." 

In the midst of this g-lorious picture, the g'ood schooner sailed on, to Proven 
and to Upernavik, fi'om whence she headed north to Tessuissak — "the place 
where there is a bay." Six weeks from the time she left Boston, the party, now 
larger by several natives, hunters, and Danish sailors taken aboard at Gi'eenland, 
(Altered Melville Bay in a thick snow-storm. Pretty soon they had to build their 
snow-houses, set up their stations, and make the regvdar preparations for winter. 
In the .spring the3^ worked their way further northward up Smith's Sound. Then 
taking- a companion and starting- out on a sledge-journey Dr. Hayes went over 
about the same route he had followed before on one of his journeys from the 
Advance. All the way he made careful observations, especially to correct errors 
that he found in the charts made on the last trip. Pushing up Kennedy's Chan- 



Isaac Israel Hayes. 245 

iiel he finally got beyond the limits of the former discoveries, and reached the 
lower cape at the entrance to Lady Franklin Bay. This was a point forty miles 
further than that a1;tained by Dr. Kane on the opposite shore, when he had ex- 
plored the east and Dr. Hayes the west shore of this channel — which the^^ both 
believed led to the Open Polar Sea. At this place — which he named Cape Lieber 
— he unfurled several United States flags which had been given him to open at the 
most northerly point in his journey. He did not find a clear sea here ; but the 
ice was thin and decayed, and he felt sure that open water lay be3'Ond, though it 
was then impossible for him to push any further north to prove it. After making 
a great many careful scientific observations, he started back to the schooner, which 
passed the early part of the summer in Hartstene Bay, while the party spent most 
of the time in making discoveries round about them, watching the action of the 
tide and studying the habits of the Esquimaux. 

In the middle of July the schooner broke out of the ice, and the homeward jour- 
ney was begun. For a long distance Dr. Hayes surveyed the coast as he went, 
gathering specimens of plants and natural history and all the scientific informa- 
tion possible. At last the vessel was out of the Arctic regions, and a direct route 
was taken for Boston. He reached port after an absence of flfteen months, and 
found the country resounding with the news of war, the battle of Ball's Bluff hav- 
ing been fought but a few days before the party landed. 

Dr. Hayes at once offered his vessel and himself to the Union cause, and it was 
not until after the conflict was over that he brought out the narrative of his jour- 
ney. This book, which is called the " Open Polar Sea," was thought so well of 
that the royal geographical societies of both London and Paris awarded gold med- 
als to its author, while many other honors were paid him for his valuable services 
to the cause of science and geographical knowledge. 

Two years after this book was published Dr. Ha3'es again went to Greenland, 
and explored the south coasts of that country. He then studied the regions of 
the north for the sake of their beauty and historic interest more than for scien- 
tific knowledge. He observed the great Greenland glaciers and icebergs, visited 
the places where .the Northmen had their colonies in olden times, and finally took 
his vessel — a steam-yacht called the Panther — up into the much-dreaded ice-pack 
of Melville Bay. Accounts of this journey are given in the book entitled " The 
Land of Desolation." 

After his return he went into politics, and Avas for a time a member of the New 
York Legislature, although he never lost his interest in the Arctic regions, nor 
ceased to write about them. 

Dr. Isaac Israel Hayes was born in Chester County, Pennsylvania, Marcli 
5, 1832. He died in New York City, December 17, 1881. 



246 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

A few weeks after the United States bore Dr. Hayes and his party away froira 
Boston Harbor on their scientific voysuge to the Polar Sea, another expedition left 
New London, Connecticut, to renew tlie Franklin search. This was a simple affair 
of two men, Charles Francis Hall and a native Esquimaux for an inter- 
preter. 

Mr. Hall was a noble-hearted, energ-etic man of Cincinnati, an engraver by 
trade, poor, and about forty 3^ears old. Since the flrst Grinnell Expedition went 
out he had been most deeply interested in every attempt that had been made to 
find the lost explorers, and soon after the failure of Dr. Kane's heroic effort, he 
came forward with a new plan b^" which he felt sure they could be discovei*ed ; 
for Mr. Hall — like many others — still firmly believed that some of the party at 
least were still living', althoug-h sixteen years had then passed since they left Eng- 
land. The plan which he proposed for finding- them was, for the rescue party to 
go prepared to live just as the natives lived, and to travel about with them over 
the country where it was supposed that Sir John was lost. 

While he was thinking- this over he heard that the British relief ship Resolute 
had been laid up as a hulk in the Mediterranean, and he decided to make an effort 
to secure it and begin preparations. He interested Governor Chase, of Ohio, and 
several prominent citizens enoug-h to g-et them to sign a petition to the British 
Government for the use of the ship to take him to join Sir Francis McClintock, an 
Englishman who had g'one on a search expedition a little more than a year before. 
He then sent out a circular calling upon all lovers of man and science to assist in 
fitting- out this expedition. Leaving- Cincinnati soon after that, he came to the 
Eastern cities, visited Mr, Grinnell, the relatives of Dr. Hayes, and several others 
who had taken an interest in former expeditions, who met his efforts with a hearty 
response. In the midst of their active preparations word came from Eng-land that 
McClintock had returned with the g-ood news that he had found traces of the lost 
party in King- William Land. In a tin cylinder, underneath a pile of stones, he 
had found a paper which stated that Sir John Franklin and twenty-six of his 
men were dead. But one hundred and thirty-seven had gone out, and hopes of 
finding the others now helped to speed on Mr. Hall's plan very swiftly. Mr. 
Grinnell again lent his aid, and a g-enerous firm of New London offered free pas- 
sage for the expedition as far as Northumberland Inlet, on their whaler, the 
George Henry. On this Hall set out on the 29th of May, 18G0. His outfit was 
small but complete, and his only companion was an Esquimaux man, who had 
come down to New Eng-land from Greenland on the George Henry's last trip. It 
was a tiny expedition, but not a weak one, for Hall was a host in himself, as he 
afterward proved. 

Difficulties began at the outset. The Esquimaux died soon after the vessel 



Charles Francis Hall. 247 

left port ; head-winds made her tardy in reaching- her winter quarters, and during- 
the winter Mr. Hall lost his expedition boat, which was all that he had depended on 
for reaching King- William Land from Northumberland Inlet. Nothing- could 
now he done without a new outfit, and as it was several months before the whaler 
could get out of the ice, he had time to study the Esquimaux lang'uage and to 
make several sledg-e-journeys into the interior so as to get some idea of what experi- 
ences were before him. In these he gained a great deal of useful knowledge about 
the country, made friends with some of the people, and carried on some very val- 
uable scientific explorations. His companions on these sledge-journeys were a very 
intellig-ent Esquimaux man and his wife — " Joe and Hannah" he named them — 
and another man whom he had befriended. The woman used to track the 
snow in front of the dog- team while her husband drove, and at nig-ht she would 
start the light in the stone lamp to dry the wet clothing', while the men built 
t-he snow-hut for their shelter. 

They were out foi'ty-three days on the first trip, and Mr. Hall learned from 
that how many days would have to be spent in the future — making- but little prog- 
ress, sufifering greatly' from cold and hunger, and having nothing to eat but 
frozen whale-hide. But in spite of these suffering's he was encouraged to go on 
with his plans. 

Gradually the winter passed away; spring came, and then the summer, in 
which the captain of the George Henry had expected to sail for home. But the 
ice-pack still held her fast, and there was nothing to do but remain until the next 
summer, when she might be freed. Before that time came provisions began to 
fail, and the second winter Avould have seen suffering for food, if Hall had not been 
able to go to the natives and ask for provisions whenever theii^ larder was empty. 
In this way he kept the party alive. Then, when the men on shipboard fell sick 
of the scurvy — a disease that attacks almost e^-ery exploring party in the north 
country — he had them taken to live in the huts, where they soon got well on the 
native "igloo" food. This proved that his idea that the white men could live 
with the Esquimaux was correct. During this second fall and winter he made 
many short excursions into the country, and in the spring he set out on a long 
exploring tour of two months. 

In August — after a stay of two years — the George Henry was released from 
the ice and started for home, carrying Hall back in quest of fresh supplies and 
another boat. He now felt surer than ever that his plan would succeed. 

Hannah and Joe returned with him on a visit to the United States, bringing 
their baby and seal dog with them. They were very much interested in all the 
wonders of civilization that they saw ; and the people of civilization were equally 
interested in them. 



248 One Hundred Famous Ainericans. 

Mr. Hall loLiiid it very hard work to lit out his second expedition. The long- 
and costly conflict of the Civil War had begun while he was away ; and the Gov- 
ernment liad more expenses than it could comfortably meet already, and many of 
tlie peo])le wlio had given money for the search before, now felt too poor to do so. 
But lie was not discouraged, and soon managed by lecturing- to earn Avhat funds 
he needed to prepare himself for another jom-ney. The Monticello, a whaler 
bound for the regions about Hudson's Straits, offered him free passage for the 
little party and the outfit, and in that vessel they started in July, 1864. They 
made a direct route to Frobisher's Bay, and there took on board four Esquimaux, 
with their wives and sledges, who, with Joe and Hannah, were to be Mr. Hall's 
companions after he left the vessel. 

Through some mistake in the reckoning, instead of landing the travelers at the 
mouth of the Wager River — from wiiich Mr. Hall intended to journey hy boat to 
Repulse Bay and be ready to start in the spring for King William Land — the 
captain let them off forty miles south of the mouth of the river, which made it im- 
possible to reach Repulse Bay that fall. It took them nine months to get to their 
pi'oper landing-place, and then t\\ey had to wait till spring before setting out for 
Repulse Bay. Thus a whole year was lost. But Mr. Hall did not lose heart. He 
lived Avith the natives as one of them, and in the spring of 1865 again started 
northward — not on a smooth, rapid journey, but on a slow, vexatious one. His 
Esquimaux companions felt none of his anxiety to hasten onward, and sometimes 
they would not travel more than two or three miles a day. This was an unlooked- 
for trouble, but, while it greatly hindered his work, it did not thwart him entirely. 
One da}', as the little party was journeying along, they met a band of natives 
who had seen Franklin. They described him and showed articles that had belonged 
to some of his men. They said that the ship was crushed in the ice and that some 
of their boats were found with dead men in them. This information made Mr. 
Hall more anxious than ever to push on ; but the Esquimaux still dallied, stop- 
ping on one pretext or another after every little march. Even the faithful Joe and 
Haimah were swayed by the superstitions of their countrymen, and with them, at 
last, refused to go any furth(M\ The end of the second season found them back on 
Repulse Bay — " disappointed but not discouraged," wrote Hall in his diar3^ 

The next spring he made a final and resolute start for King William Land, 
taking with him this time only Joe and Hannah, a white man named Rudolph who 
had gone with him from the wnaler, and one of the Esquimaux who was more do- 
cile than the rest. As he neared Ig-loo-lik, iu Melville Peninsula, the natives told 
him that white men had often been seen there ; and a little furthei- on he discov- 
ered a place where a tent had been made, but he found no recoi'ds. The winter 
was spent on the Peninsula, and the next summer he reached the long-desired 



Charles Francis Hall. 24!) 

King" William Land. Here he found some of the remains of the missing- party, 
and learned that the Erebus and Terror, Sir John's vessels, had made the north- 
west passage and perished there. 

So at last he had succeeded in learning the fate of the unfortunate party. He 
found some articles that they had left, learned that there were books and records 
further on, and wanted to g'o in search of them and the bodies of the explorers, 
but his companions refused to g-o with him, and he had to give it up. Making- his 
way southward, just below Repulse Bay, he took passag-e in a whaler, bound for 
New England ; and in the eaiiy part of 1869, with Joe, Hannah, and a little adopted 
child, he landed at Bedford, Massachusetts, with his precious relics of the lost 
Englishmen. He went straight to New York, and within a month was at work 
for another expedition — this time to find the North Pole and also to get the Frank- 
lin records about which the natives had told him. Lectures and writings awoke a 
g-reat deal of interest in his project. Congress voted fifty thousand dollars for it ; 
and in June of 1871 the Polaris left New York with a party of able scientific 
men and a good crew, placed by the Government under the command of Mr. Hall. 
By the end of August they had reached a point further north than any white man 
had ever yet been, and in a few months they set out on a sledg-e-journey toward 
the Pole, finding the country warmer than the^' had expected, and abounding- in 
g-ame. It was too near winter to press all the way on, but they returned to the 
Polaris well satisfied with their survey, and much surer than befoi'e that the,y 
should finally succeed ; but the night they returned to the vessel. Captain Hall was 
taken with an attack of apoplexy, and in two weeks he died. 

Charles F. Hall was born in Rochester, New Hampshire, some time in the year 
1821. He died on the steam-tug- Polaris, in Newman's Bay, on the west coast of 
Greenland, November 8, 1871. 

After this the Polaris party attempted to continue their explorations under 
the command of Captain S. O. Buddington ; they passed almost a year of terrible 
distress, during which all hopes of pushing- the North Pole explorations had to be 
g-iven up. although the^^ kept up their scientific observations where they were. 
They became separated about a year after Captain Hall's death \)j a sudden crack 
in the floe in which the vessel was caught, part of the men being- on the floe with 
a quantity of provisions and part of them being- in the vessel, which they were un- 
loading. After a long time of terrible distress, the floe party was found by a 
barkentine from Newfoundland, which took them to St. John's, where they em- 
barked in a United States steamer for Washington. On their return the Govern- 
ment promptly sent out a relief party to find the Polaris, but her party had al- 
ready been rescued by a Scotch whaler from which they had been taken on board 



250 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

some other vessels, fitted for passengers — which the whaler was not. Part of 
them were thus taken directly to New York, while the remainder were carried to 
Dundee, Scotland, and crossed the Atlantic to get home. 

The first Arctic visit of George W. De Long was made as under-officer in 
the Juniata on the relief expedition for the Polaris. The second — and famous one 
— was started in 1879 to carry out by the way of Behring Strait Captain Hall's 
unfinished enterprise of reaching the North Pole. 

Commander De Long had then been in the navy for fifteen years. His boyhood 
Avas passetl in Brooklyn, New York, jealously guarded from every possible danger 
to his person and his character by his loving mother. He went regularly to 
school and straight home again, studied hard and thoroughly. Being hemmed 
in by too anxious care, his spirit and energy found their only vent in his active 
mind. He was, says his wife, a fiery little orator and writer, of a restless dis- 
position, and filled with an- uneasy desire for larger liberty. 

When he was about twelve years old he found some tales of naval exploits in 
the War of 1812, and from that time forward he was filled with longing for a 
heroic life. It was years that he contested with his parents for it ; and at last he 
only gained their permission to enter the Naval Academy, on the condition, which 
he proposed himself, o! his securing his own appointment. This he actually did — 
though his father and mother thought it would be impossible when they consented 
to his request — and entered at Annapolis in the fall of the year in which the 
Civil War broke out. Just as the conflict came to a close he graduated with dis- 
tinction, having done able, vigorous work during the whole course. His appoint- 
ment in the navy was soon made. Although he was only a "middy" at first 
he rose rapidly, and after he had been four years in the service he held the 
rank of lieutenant. In 1871 he obtained a leave of absence for two years, which 
he spent in Europe, and which was marked by the happy event of his marriage 
to Miss Emma Wolien, at Havre, France. 

For a time he was attached to the service of the French line of transatlantic 
steamer's. Then he went on the Polar Expedition in the Juniata, where he showed 
that he had the traits necessary for an explorer, by the way he took command of 
a party that set out in a steam-launch to make some searches further north than 
the Juniata could be taken. 

After his return to the United States, Lieutenant De Long directed the train- 
ing-ship St. Manfs at New York for about two years, and resigned from that 
duty to take command of the Jeanette Expedition, which was fitted out by Mr. 
Bennett, the owner of the New York Herald. 

The story of this long journey of distress from San Francisco to the Arctic 



John Rodgers. 251 

coast of Asia was told only a few years ago in the "Voyage of the Jeanette,'' 
which is the record left in the journals of the commander and his part}' , edited hy 
Mrs. De Long, 

Lieutenant De Long was born in New York City, August 22, 1844. He died 
in the Lena Delta, Siberia, some time in November, 1881. 

Among the most important cruises in the Arctic seas on the western side of 
our continent, was that of the sloop of war Vincennes, under the command of 
John Rodgers, of the United States Nav3\ He had already served under Lieu- 
tenant Wilkes in the South Sea explorations, and had made an honorable record in 
the Seminole and the Mexican Wars. He was a brave and energetic explorer. In 
his cruise of two years, he went to the China Seas ; from there to Behring Strait 
and along the coasts of the Northern Pacific Ocean and the Arctic Seas — surveying 
the harbors and the shores as he went along'. He explored the waters and the shel- 
tering inlets where merchant ships and fishing and trading vessels go, sought out 
localities where coal could be found, sounded all that portion of the Northern Pa- 
cific which can be used for whaling, and made many other careful observations in. 
the interest of all navigation. 

His vessel arrived at San Francisco two days after the relief party returned to 
the Brookljm Navy Yard, bringing Dr. Kane home from his second expedition. 

In the Civil War, which broke out in a few 3'ears, he distinguished himself by 
gallant service. Later he was raised to the rank of rear-admiral, commanded the 
Asiatic squadron, and in 1871 bombarded the forts of Corea. He was noted for 
calm, cool courage, and superior ability. His brother officers in the nav}' looked 
upon him as one of the foremost naval men of this century. 

Admiral Rodgers was born in Maryland, August 8, 1812. He died May 5, 1882, 



REFORMERS AND PHILANTHROPISTS. 



THE greatest reform that has yet taken place — or probably ever will — in this 
country was the abolition of slavery, the entire breaking- up of the rig-ht of 
white people to buy, sell, or own human being-s. 

The chief leader in this g-reat movement was William Lloyd Garrison, 
a Massachusetts man of wonderful courag-e and force of character. He beg-an 
very earh^ to make liis own way in the woi-ld, for his mother was left with a little 
family and no means of support — excepting her own work as professional nurse — 
when William was quite a little boy. At the ag-e of nine he commenced to work 
at the shoemaker's trade in Lynn. But the work did not siut him, and he longed 
for an education, so when a chance soon came to g-o back to Newburypoi-t, his 
native town, and attend school, he gladly accepted, although he had to pay for his 
board and tuition by sawing- wood, doing- errands, and other out-of-door tasks 
above school hours. Even this could only be a short privilege, and he g-ave 
himself entirely to work again before he was fifteen. 

After several changes he settled to the trade of printing, and began to learn in 
the office of the Newburyport Herald. It was not long before he .became an excellent 
workman, and feeling an interest in the business beyond his case of type, he 
began to write articles, which were sent without his name, and printed in the 
Herald and other journals. A set of papers that came out in the Salem Gazette 
attracted enough attention to set the young author's heart throbbing- with pleasure 
and hope for the future. So, when his time of apprenticeship was over, he began 
to conduct a paper of his own. But it was not successful, and he gave it up, and 
in the next year, after working as journeyman pi-inter for a time, he took the 
position of editor of the National Fhilanfhrojiist. This was published in Boston 
and was the first paper in the country devoted to the cause of " total abstinence " 
from the use of any licpiors or intoxicating- drinks. 

He was a devout Christian, and year by year his interest grew in good works 
among men, such as are called philanthropy and reform. After about a year on 



William Lloyd Garrison. 



253 



the Philanthropist he joined a friend at Bennington, in Vermont, and carried on 
a journal entirely devoted to peace, temperance, and anti-slavery. 

Some years before, Garrison had become very much interested in the struggle 
of the Greeks for freedom, and from that liad been ai-oused to the cause of liberty 
and the rights of men everywhere. He saw the evil of slavery in his own nation, 
and a g-reat desire grew in him to have it put down, or driven out, and all the- 
bondmen freed. He went to see some of the leading preachers of the time, to try 




William Lloyd Garrison. 

to induce them to take hold of the matter with all their strength, olTeiing- his 
own aid whatever call might come. But they all refused. Meanwliile a quiet 
little Quaker g-entleman of Baltimore was reading Garrison's ai'ticles, and think- 
ing about him, because he, too, was interested in anti-slavei'\'. This was Benja- 
min Lundy, of Baltimore, who published a small journal called the Genius of 
Universal Emancipation. It was not an important sheet in his hands. A few 
people opposed to slavery subscribed for it and read it, but it was of so little 
account that the Southerners scarcely took any notice of it. This was just wliat 



254 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

its owner wanted to overcome, and he thought likely the j^oung- New Eng-lander 
would be the man to help him. So he journeyed on foot from Baltimore, Mary- 
land, to Benning-ton, Vermont, and, after he found out where he could see Mr. 
Garrison, he made a call on him, and asked him to go home with him and edit the 
Genius of Universal Emancipation. The otfer was heartily accepted, and from 
that moment the life-work of William Lloyd Garrison was for the one object of 
immediately driving slavery out of the United States. 

He made the editorials of the little paper ring for the cause of the negroes. It 
was no longer passed by as harmless. He denounced slaveholders and slave- 
dealers, and said so many strong and bitter things that he was sued for libel, tried, 
and put in prison before long, and remained there for nearly two months, until 
Mr. Arthui' Tappan, then a great merchant and anti-slavery man of New York, 
paid the enormous fine demanded to let him out. 

A great time was made about this imprisonment. It was interfering with the 
liberty of the press — that is, the right of newspapers to speak out on all subjects 
— and the newspapers of the North, the Manumission Society of North Carolina, 
Henry Cla}^ and many others — though they did not approve of the wa^'' in which 
Mr. Garrison had set to work — spoke out boldly against his being imprisoned. 

Not at all frightened, but more determined than ever, as soon as he was freed 
Garrison prepared a course of lectures on emancipation and delivered them in New 
York and other places. Going back to Boston he began to publish the famous 
Ldberator. This was a weekly journal with the motto, " My countr^^ is the world, 
my countrymen are all mankind," and its columns were full of decided, uncompro- 
mising anti-slavery articles, and unsparing denunciation of slavery and all people 
that had anything to do with it. 

It needed a great deal of courage and labor to get out this paper. Mr. Garrison 
had no money, no place in society, and even the churches of New England had 
•disowned him. At first he and his partner, Isaac Knapp, could not even afford 
to hire an office, but they got the paper printed by working as journeymen print- 
ers upon the Christian Examiner and taking their pay in the use of the Exami- 
ner's type. All the work on the Liberator — writing, type-setting, and printing — 
was done after the regular day's work. Very soon some money came into it from 
other Abolitionists, and a little out-of-the way office was taken, where Mr. Garrison 
and his partner did their work, got their own meals, and made their bed on the 
floor. He was an excellent workman. On the first paper he owned he used to set 
up his editorials without first writing them out ; everything he wrote was perfect 
for the press as he penned it, and the Liberator was always one of the handsomest 
looking papers in circulation. 

Some people in the North were full of the same spirit, and looking upon Garri- 



WiUiam Lloyd Oarrison. 355 

son as the i^refit leader of a great cause, were full of S3'mpathy with him in all he 
said and did. But many disapproved of him, and good society would have noth- 
ing to do with such fanatical folks. In the South, slaveholders and dealers were 
even more bitter against him than he toward them, and by almost every mail 
they threatened his life if he did not stop his paper. It was not safe for him to go 
about unarmed, but he did so, not believing in saving one life by taking another, or 
even being prepared to do so. The State of Georgia offered five thousand dollars 
to any one who would prosecute and convict him according to the laws of that 
State. Even this did not daunt him, but spurred him on to another decided step. 
This was the forming of an anti-slaver^^ societ^^ in New England. 

The Mayor of Boston was called upon time after time to suppress the Liberator; 
and in 1835 Garrison himself was mobbed and drag'g*ed through the streets of 
Boston by a band of his angry countrymen. But he kept on in his powerful work 
against the evil, wielding a pen mightier than any sword, for thirty-five years, 
till he saw the black man and the black woman in America as free, by law at 
least, as their white brothers and sisters. 

Meanwhile he was also at work in other places than the Liberator's office. 
He made a trip to England to spread the feeling in Europe, and on his return 
founded the great American Anti-Slavery Society in Philadelphia. These were 
not the first abolition societies of the country. One had been formed in this city 
the same year that the Declaration of Independence was made, upon the gTound 
that slavery was a moral and religious w^rong. Franklin, Washington, Jeffer- 
son, and Hamilton — two Northerners and two Southerners — and many other of 
the foremost men in the country had been strongl}^ opposed to the custom. Those 
of them who owned slaves wei'e kind and g'ood masters, and would have willinglj^ 
freed them at any time. But they had felt that the practice woidd die out, and 
the mass of people were indifferent to the real impoi-tance of it. The custom was 
as old as the world. It had existed in all countries, civilized and barbarous, and 
was brought to America by some of the first settlers. . In the Northern Colonies, 
the effect of the climate was to make people hardy and energetic. Life was not 
easy to them, and they learned to expect toil and rugged training. Such people 
had little need of slaves, so they did not grow to any importance, and were finallj^ 
freed by law. But in the South it was different. It was another and less active 
class of people that settled the Southern Colonies. They were of wealthy old Eng- 
lish, French, and Spanish families, larg-ely, who had always had slaves, or very 
readily fell into the way of it. Beside, the country there raised sugar-cane, to- 
bacco, indigo, and cotton on great plantations. The care of these crops required 
many hands, and not such active or intelligent work as the industries of the 
North ; so, while slavery was gradually dying" out in the upper Colonies, it grew 



256 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

very fast in the lower ones ; and the King- of Eng-land was willmg' that it should, 
and himself took an active share in the slave trade, and refused to let any of the 
Colonies forbid it. For, even then, there were men and women in America, as in 
other countries, that felt that one person had no right to own the life of another, 
and use it as he thought best, for good or for evil. 

Many of the early statesmen were verj^ outspoken in their views of this mat- 
ter, and made decided efforts to put the custom down when the States were first 
organized after the Revolution. The matter was never entirely dropped, but It 
was not iirmly grasped and g-rappled with, and so for- more than half a century 
it took its natural course, dying out in the North and growhig in the South, 
although many Southerners were opposed to it. Some freed their slaves, and 
a few took sides against the custom in public debates, but the mass of the people 
were in favor of it. 

Some of the reformers hoped to bring the people of the whole country to see the 
evil of it, to prove that negroes could be made respectable and intelligent citizens, 
and then to have laws made by which all slavery would be gradually abolished. 
Others, like Garrison, said that it must be driven out at once, and they almost 
said at whatever cost. But the majority in the South were determined that it should 
never come to pass in any way. The Abolitionists, they said, might do as they 
liked, but they must 1^ them alone ; and as for slavery to them it w^as right and 
good, and if the reformers tried to spread theii' ideas through the country, they 
were simply interfering with the Southerners' rights. So, although a great many 
other questions came in about States' rights, the great pivot upon which the 
affairs of the nation turned for about forty years, was slavery. 

But it was Garrison who made the feeling against it in the North, and who 
brought the matter to its final issue. He began single-handed, and undaunted by 
all manner of disrespect, threats of property, life, and imprisonment, and attempt- 
ed assassination, he kept his course and pushed steadily onward to assert and gain 
the right of men to all humanity, and in doing so he probably exerted a stronger 
influence upon his own times, and perhaps upon the history of the United States, 
than any other one person. It has been said that he was to the abolition of sla- 
very what Samuel Adams was to independence — a man looked upon with the great- 
est dread as an extremist and a fanatic, and tliat too by many of those who after- 
w\ard fought in battle for the very same cause. He was the leader in all that the 
Abolition party did ; his name was on the lips of every mob that attacked their 
meetings, and once his own person was seized and roughly dragged through the 
Boston streets by people whom the papers of the day described as "gentlemen of 
property and standing.'' 

In 1840 he went again to England, to attend the World's Anti-Slavery Conven- 



William Lloyd Garrison. 257 

tion, of which he was one of the most tlisting-uished members. But, as the women 
delegates from this country- — Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and several 
other noble-hearted ladies — sent by the American societies were not allowed to take 
their places, he would not either. A few years later he became President of the 
American society, and he held that office for twenty- two years. When the war 
was over, he resig-ned, and also discontinued the Liberator, for its mission was 
fulfilled. 

This was the close of his long" editorial career of forty years. It beg'an when 
he was twenty, and the youngest man in the business ; when it closed there was 
no other editor in the land — excepting- perhaps William Cullen Bryant — who had 
passed so many years of continuous services. 

He had hoped to abolish slavery in a peaceful way, by bringing people to un- 
derstand the evil of it; but he soon grew to feel that it could only be done by the 
breaking- up of the Union, and he was in favor of that rather than the other. But 
he lived to see his great cause carried — though by war and bloodshed — without 
the calamity of disunion. 

In April of the year 1865, he was invited by Mr. Chase, Secretary of War, to be 
one of a party from the North, which went to Chaiieston, where he helped to raise 
the Union flag over the ruins of Fort Sumter, from which, four years before, it had 
been pulled down, in the first victory of the Confederates. 

A short time after this event Mr. Garrison received a purse of thirty thousand 
dollars, whicli had been made up by man3^ distinguished citizens of the United 
States, as a mark of how deeply they felt the value of his services to the honor of 
the republic. 

Part of the latter years of his life was spent in Europe. In England, the great 
statesmen and distinguished citizens treated him with especial dignity ; and in 
America the people who had condemned and insulted him gave public receptions 
in his honor and paid him the greatest attentions. 

William Lloyd Garrison was born in Newburyport, Massachusetts, December 
10, 1805. He died in New York City, May 24, 1879, 

Mr. Garrison's chief aide in his great anti-slavery war was Wendell Phillips, 

the " silver-tongued orator." He too was a Massachusetts man, a son of one of 
the first okl Boston families, whose stately mansion is still standing on the lower 
<:orner of Beacon and Walnut Streets. It was here that Wendell was born, in 
the same year that another great man — Charles Sumner — came into a family 
that lived not far away, where the rear of the Bowdoin school-house now stands. 
Wendell Phillips's father was a wealthy and much-respected man, with a great 
deal of sound sense and wisdom. He trained his children after the rule : " Ask 



258 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

no man to do anything- that you are not ahle to do for yourself." This is the- 
reason that by the time Wendell was g-rown up, he knew something- of almost 
every impoi'tant trade then carried on in New England, 

He was a student in the famous old Latin School at the same time Sumner was 
there, and hefoi-e he was sixtee'n he entered Harvard College. He g-raduated in 
1831, in the same year with John Lothrop Motley, the historian; and we are told 
that they were then two of the finest young men in Boston, with personal beauty, 
eleg-ance, and a good place in the best society. 

Mr. Phillips has said that there was scarcelj^ any kind of ordinar^^ trade or fac- 
tory labor in New England at which he had not done at least a day's work ; but 
for his regular business in life he chose the profession of law. He went to the- 
Cambridge Law School, and was admitted to the bar in 1834. This was the same 
year in which Sumner was also admitted ; he had entered Harvard a year later 
than Phillips, and had followed him to the Law School. Now they entered upon 
the world of practical work togethei', eacli gifted with talents, good position, and 
an excellent start at the age of twenty-three. Both were to become famous, and 
each in his own way the supporter of a despised cause — Sumner as a statesman, 
Phillips as a radical reformei-. Both had excellent powers of mind and of speech,, 
but the eloquence of Phillips was greater than that of Sumner or almost any man 
of his time. 

These were troublous da.ys in Boston. A few men had already come out boldly 
against slavery, and were doing- all in their power to stir the feeling of the people 
against it. They were strongly opposed, despised as fanatics, and liad even been 
mobbed as enemies by some of Boston's " g-entlemen of property and standing-." 

Around William Lloyd Garrison, the leader of these reformers, gathered a few 
men and women who could bear to be hated and despised for the sake of g-iving 
whatever power and influence they had to the cause which was right, and which 
must have noble and heroic Avork to carry it through. In the hands of any less 
than heroes they knew it would fail. 

In 1836 — the year after Garrison was mobbed — Wendell Phillips joined himself 
with these people— these "heroes for liberty," or " ridiculous- fanatics "'—and be- 
came a member of the American Anti-Slavery Society. When he made up his 
mind to do this, he left the bar, for he Avas not willing- to remain under oath to the- 
Constitution of the United States. He did not take a very active part in the so- 
ciety's Avork at the outset. Still he AA^as one of its members, and that meant a 
g-ood deal. 

Every AA'eek the strife between the for-slaA-ery and the anti-slaA^ery people grew 
more and more bitter all over the country. Even in the North there Avas far more 
mterest in the rights of the slaveholders than in those of the neg-roes. The aboli- 



Wendell Phillips. 



259 



tionist leaders were menaced and insulted everywhere ; but when Elija P. Love- 
joy was actually murdered at Alton, Illinois, while defending- his press from a for- 
slavery mob, people felt that a new step had been taken, and a thrill of horror ran 
throug-h the land. 

An indig-nation meeting- w^as called at Faneuil Hall by Doctor Channing-, and 
many people were roused against this murder who had been indifferent before, or 



i^^-i\ 




Wendell Phillips. 

even fashionably opposed to the whole movement. It was thoug-ht that all in the 
assembly Avere of one mind about the crime, until Mr. Austin, Attorney-General 
of the State, arose and said that Lovejoy died as the fool dieth, and compared the 
Alton mob to the men who thi-ew the tea into Boston Harbor. The meeting bi'oke 
into applause, and seemed ready to g-o with Austin, when Wendell Phillips — 
somewhat known as an Abolitionist — began to speak, amid hisses that almost 
drowned his opening words : " When I heard the gentleman lay down principles 
that placed the murderers of Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with 



260 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Quincy and Adams, 1 tliouyht these pictured lips [pointing- to their portraits, 
which hang- upon the walls] would have broken into voice to rebuke the recreant 
American, the slanderer of the dead." 

That moment turned the tide of the meeting- — the people remembered their ob- 
ject in coming- together, they recalled the fact that a band of ruffians had taken 
on themselves to interfere with America's glory — the freedom of the press — had 
cried down the i-ights of humanity, and had taken the life of their fellow-citizen in 
cold blood. 

This speech turned the g-reat current of thought in Boston, in New Eng-land, 
and throug-hout the North. It also made the fame of Wendell Phillips as an ora- 
tor, and placed him as one of the foremost among the anti-slavery leaders. 

He now took up the cause with the most earnest of its workers, and became 
Garrison's right-hand helper. For it he gave up his place in society, his friend- 
ships, his wealth, his profession, and even refused to vote, or in any way call him- 
self a citizen of the United States so long as its Constitution provided for slavery. 
He made himself poor for the cause he worked in, and of what money he earned 
by lecturing he g-ave all away that he could spare. The fame of his eloquence 
always drew large audiences, and was an important monej^-aid to the society, 
to say nothing- of his g'l-eat influence upon the minds of those who heard him. 

He always looked upon Garrison as his chief, his own duty being to supply the 
eloquence ; but there was no part of the great work that he was not ready and 
willing- to do, faithfully and well. He g-ave his life to it like a hero, and like a hero 
and a g-iant he kept at it until it was accomplished. 

He was a younger man than Mr. Garrison by seven years, and did not retii'e 
when the g-reat work was done. He followed his chief as President of the Anti- 
Slavery Society, fi-om the close of the war mitil 1870, when it Avas brought to an 
end. He also joined heartily in the work of obtaining for women an equal right 
with men in the liberty and protection of the law, of prohibiting the use or sale 
of li(iuors, exc(^pt for medicine, of improving- the management of prisons, and in 
favor of gi'eenbacks or paper curi'enc3-. For many years he lectured on these and 
on other subjects of history and literature. He was an able scholar, a fine orator, 
and a most perfect gentleman. His tall, well-shaped figure, his manly bearing, 
and courteous manners won respect and admiration from all who saw him, even 
though they knew not his name or the sublime character he bore. 

Wendell Phillips was born November 29, 1811, in Boston, where he died, Feb- 
ruary 2, 1884, 



John Brown. 



2G1 



Among other energetic leaders in the anti-slavery movement were Josiah G id- 
dings, a Congressman for twenty-one years ; Arthur and Lewis Tappan, two 
brothers, who were famous New York merchants before the wai' ; John Grecnleaf 
Whittier, the poet ; Gerrit Smith, a wealthy land-holder of New York ; Mrs. Lu- 
cretia Mott, a Quakeress, of Philadelphia, and old John Brown, of Ossawato- 
mie. He was one of the most ardent champions of liberty for the negroes, and, 
although he went to work in an ill-judged way, he probably broke the first link in 
their bondage. 

The idea of freeing the slaves first came to him in the year 1839, Gari'ison's 
Liberator had then been wielding its two-edged sword for almost ten years. 
Lovejoy had been dead two years, Wendell Phillips was well started in his lec- 
turing, Giddings was serving his first term in Con- 
gress, and the Tappan brothers and Gerrit. Smith 
were aiding and pushing forward the cause of free- 
dom among New Yorkers. But all of them, and 
probably scores of others engaged in the great sys- 
tematic endeavors of the Anti-Slavery Society, scarce- 
ly knew that there was such a man as this John 
Brown. He was no figure in society or politics, only 
a tanner and currier, nearly forty years of age. He 
was a man with a large family and held the good 
opinion of his townsmen and acquaintances as a de- 
vout Christian of strict moral character. He also 
had the reputation among- the few who knew him 
of being intensely in earnest about some things, 
especially against slavery. But it was not until six- 
teen years after this that he came out in his bold 
opposition to the slavery people. Meanwhile he moved from Ohio to Massachu- 
setts, and spent some time'in Europe on business, but in 1855 he went out to Kan- 
sas in order to vote, and to fight, if need be, against having slavery established 
in that Territory. It was then he first took part against the slavery people. He 
was in many of the fierce little frays that took place before this matter was settled 
and Kansas was won into the hands of the free state settlers. In all these he 
showed wonderful coolness and bravery, and sometimes a strong arm and nerves 
for fierce fighting in the face of danger. Once, during this contest, a band of 
f or-slavery men from Missouri invaded the Territory, and ' ' old John Brown ' ' 
became the hero of Ossawatomie by routing them at that place with a little com- 
pany about one-tenth the size of the invaders' party. 

From this time he was better known and took a more active pai-t against the 




John Brown. 



262 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

evil he so hated. He traveled throug-h the Northern and the Eastern States, 
making- speeches against slaver^' and trying to form some plans tor raising armed 
troops to put it down. Finally he called a secret convention of the friends of 
freedom, which met at Chatham in Canada. They formed a society, adopted a 
constitution, and planned out an expedition into Virg-inia, by which they thoug-ht 
they could free the slaves at one bold sti'oke of arms, as Brown had conquered the 
Missourians at Ossawatomie years before. 

In the next July a man who called himself Mr. Smith rented a farm-house 
about six miles from Harper's Ferry, Virginia, and set up a secret ai'mory. It was 
Captain Brown — " Old Ossawatomie Brown " he was usually called — and this was 
to be a headquarters for collecting- pikes, g-uns, powder, and other arms and am- 
munition, and for g-athei'ing from all jDarts of the country a band of white and 
.colored men, who, under their resolute and daring- captain, hoped to stri,ke a death- 
blow to slavery in Maryland and Virg-inia. All summer they worked and waited 
for the proper time, which came early in the autumn. On the night of October 
ICth they set out, Brown at the head of about twenty men. They made their 
way secretly to Harper's Ferry, surprising the Government arsenal and armory 
and taking- over forty prisoners. 

The soldiers, the workmen, and the inhabitants of the whole town were frig-ht- 
ened and astonished, but nobody knew what it meant. They did not think it was 
an anti-slavery movement, and some even thoug-ht it was a strike among the armo- 
i-ers or Government laborers. After awiiile the truth dawned on the people, and 
military companies soon came from many of the places near b^^, and a g-ood deal 
of firing- and fighting took place between them and Brown's little company in pos- 
session of the Government building-s. 

When the news spread to Washington, Baltimore, and Richmond , it caused the 
g-reatest excitement, and troops were ordered to Harper's Ferry at once. Early 
the next morning Colonel Robert E. Lee arrived with a hundred men and two 
field-pieces. He sent his aid. Lieutenant J. E. B. Stuart, to demand Brown's 
surrender, which was promptlj^ and resolutely refused each time it was urg-ed. 
Then the storming began and was answered by rapid and sharp firing- from within. 
At last Lee's men broke open the arsenal and the conquest was made, but not 
until two of Bro\vii's sons and nearly all the i-est of his band were killed and he 
himself was wounded in several places. He was taken to Charlestown, Virg-inia, 
where a trial was held for treason and murder. He explained the object of his 
attack, sa,ying he had not intended to harm or take permanent possession of the 
public arms, but that he had seized this point to show his determination and what 
he could do. After that he expected to be joined and aided by Abolitionists set- 
tled everywhere throughout Maryland and Virg-inia, and to be able to take 



Laicretia Mott. 



263 



possession of both States with all of the iiegToes they could capture. He made an 
eloquent defense and showed true heroic spirit about his enterprise, but in that 
court he could not establish his innocence of the crimes charged ag-ainst him. He 
was found guilty of treason by the Virginia authorities and condemned to be hung- 
in a little over a month. 

It was an event that spread talk and excitement over the whole country, 
rousing- those who were indifferent to one side or the other, strengthening- the 





Ll'CRETIA MOTT. 

South against the ''anti-slavery fanatics," and giving- the Abolitionists still 
g-reater grounds for their labors toward liberty and freedom. 

John Brown was born at Torrington, Connecticut, May 9, 1800. He was 
hung at Charlestown, Virginia, December 2, 1859. 

One of the ablest members of the Anti-Slavery Society in Philadelphia was 
Mrs. Liucretia Mott. She was one of the first women in the country to take a 
decided stand against slavery. Before the names of Garrison and his co-workers 
had been heard of, she began to use her influence against it by words and actions. 
She was then Miss Lucretia Coffin, a young lady from New England at a Friend's 
or Quaker's school in New York State. Her feeling against the great evil 



264 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

streng-thenecl very fast, and she soon felt it was her duty not to use anything- 
made by slave labor. 

When she was nineteen years old Miss Coffin became the wife of Mr. William 
Mott, of New^ York City. Her people, who were Quakers, had moved, while she 
was at school, from New England to Philadelphia, and to that city she and her 
husband went to live. This was in 1812, at the beginning- of a second strife in 
our land with England. Like all the Friends, Mrs. Mott did not believe m war, 
and felt very much disturbed about the trouble and bloodshed that spread over 
the country, and not long after peace was declared she began to preach in 
the Quaker meeting-house, which she and her people attended. She liad a good 
education and a fine mind, while her voice was so sweet, and her manner so ear- 
nest and convincing, that all who listened to her were taught by her wise words 
and charmed by their eloquence. Her influence was so important that she soon 
began to travel about the country, explaining and preaching the peaceable and 
benevolent principles of the Friends, and showing what great evils lay in slavery, 
intemperance, and strife of all kinds. 

In 1827, when Elias Hicks, a famous Quaker preacher, by changing his views 
and coming to believe in the Unitarian doctrine, was the cause of dividing the So- 
ciety of Friends, Mr. and Mrs. Mott were among those who left the old society 
that still kept to their former views and joined the " Hicksites," as those Quakers 
wiio took up the Unitarian belief were called. To believe in a thing, with her, w^as 
to work for it ; and she immediately began to give her talents and interests to the 
side of their religion which seemed to her the right one, and as long as she lived 
she was one of the ablest ministers of this society. 

Meanwhile the slavery question was growing, and all the friends of abolition 
were being called forth throughout the whole country. An association had been 
formed in New England, and in 1833, wiien it w^as decided to have a national so- 
ciety Mr. and Mrs. Mott w^ere among the foremost in helping to form it in Phil- 
adelphia. They took up whatever work it had for them and carried it on most 
ably, all in their own quiet and modest but forcible way. Six years later they 
were appointed with William Lloyd Garrison, Mr. and Mrs. Henry B. Stanton, 
and several other men and women, to represent America at the World's Anti- 
Slavery Convention in London ; and, with the other ladies, Mrs. Mott was refused 
admission to its meetings. 

At that time many people thought that women had no right to take anj^ part 
in public affairs or to try to place themselves on an equal footing with men. Sev- 
eral of the men delegates — notably Mr. Garrison — did not look at the matter in that 
light, and Avere indignant that the women were shut out of these meetings. So, 
to make it a little better, the ladies were invited to a social entertainment for the 



Lvcretia Mott. 265 

delegates called a breakfast. This was a very disting-uished company and was 
attended by many men of high rank and importance. As some of the guests were 
the people who had voted that women should not he allowed to take an active part 
at the Convention, Mrs. Mott thought it was her opportunity to say what she had 
intended to say at the Convention. In her own sweet manner she rose and ad- 
dressed the company, most of whom were astonished at her boldness ; but so ear- 
nest and so eloquent was her speech that they all soon forgot their surprise and 
listened with pleasure and admii-ation to her words ; and so she succeeded in do- 
ing her duty as an American representative to the World's Anti-Slavery Conven- 
tion. 

She believed very fii-mly that women should be equal to men in the eyes and 
the rights of the law, and when the first " Woman's Rights " convention was 
held at Genesee Falls, her husband presided and she Avas one of the most active 
and able members. That convention and all the people who were interested in 
the cause for which it was held, were for a long time ridiculed and much misunder- 
stood b^^ the greater part of both the men and women in America ; but Mrs. Mott, 
Mrs. Stone-Blackwell, Mrs. Stanton, and a great many other of the noble, womanly 
Avomen who, A\ith some of our large-minded men, stood at the head of it were not 
discourag'ed, but labored courageously and patientlj^ on to bring the people to see 
that they had a very wrong idea when they said that these women wanted to be men. 
They merely want — they say — to have fair play and honest rights as women ; 
and when they have to pay taxes and help support the Government, they claim 
the right to a voice and hearing as to how the money shall be spent, so long as 
they have to conform to the laws as much as men. 

This was all a new doctrine then, but times have changed since. The Women's 
Rights Society has had able writers and silver-tongued speakers at work. The 
new ideas have grown more popular as they have become better understood, and 
good old Mrs. Mott lived to see them taken up and indorsed, where they had been 
once ridiculed and condemned, although the end is yet a long waj^ off. She also 
lived to see four millions of slaves made free and a great change in public feeling 
about intemperance ; for, when she was young, it was no disgrace to a man to be 
drunk, and the frequent use of wines and liquors was both common and fashion- 
able. 

Besides being an eloquent speaker and an able worker, Mrs. Mott was always 
so consistent that her noble character added double power to her services in every 
cause she undertook. Although her life was much in public, she was yet a model 
old-fashioned housekeeper, who trained her children carefully, kept her house in 
comfort, peace, and beauty, loved and looked up to her quiet, earnest husband,, 
whose views were much the same as her own. 



266 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Her small, slight fig'ure, her charming-, delicate face, with its lines of tender- 
ness and of strength, her bright gray eyes that glowed as if they were black when 
she grew deeply in earnest, were familiar to all the poor in her neighborhood. She 
worked for them and gave them comforts to eat and to w^ear, attending them in 
sickness and sympathizing with their troubles. So in public life she had the power 
and the charm that win success ; she spoke well and to the point, while her high 
moral qualities, uncommon intelligence, and noble character won the respect of all; 
and those who knew the added qualities that made her family such a good, comfort- 
able, and happy one, had still greater reason to admire and reverence her, 
although many differed from the unpopular causes of slaver^', intemperance, and 
woman's rights she advocated, as well as from her religion. 

Lucretia Mott was born on the island of Nantucket, January 3, 1793. She died 
at Philadelphia, November 11, 1880. 

While the women delegates at the World's Anti-Slavery Convention in London 
were shut out from the meetings, the^^ made the most of their opportunities for get- 
ting acquainted with each other. Among all who gathered about the noble and 
respected Mrs. Mott, there was one earnest young woman of twenty-four who 
became her life-long fiiend. This was Mrs. Elizabeth Ctidy Stanton. She 
had many interests in connnon with the gentle Quakeress. Her husband, Henry 
B. Stanton, was an eloquent and popular lecturer on anti- slavery and she had 
joined heartily in his work ever since their marriage, wdiich occurred about a 3^ear 
before this time. But her interest in the great questions of the day and in the 
i-ights and wrongs of life began when she was a child. 

Judge Cady, her father, w^as a prominent and able lawyer of Fulton County, 
New York, in the early part of this century, and the little Elizabeth used to delight 
to spend her time in his office. She was a bright girl and took a great deal of in- 
terest in the people who came to her father on business. She was particularl3^ 
interested in the women, and would listen carefully to their complaints till her 
little heart was often roused in anger against the injustice of the law toward them. 
She had also learned that " girls don't count for much " compared with boys, and, 
feeling deeply mortified to see how much less regard they usually received, she 
resolved to show that she could prove that girls and women can have as much 
courage and ability as boys and men. So she studied mathematics, Latin, and 
Greek, the same as the boys of her- town, and even won a Greek Testament once 
for a prize in scholarship. She graduated at the head of her class in the Johns- 
town Academy, and felt very badly that, although she was far ahead of the boys, 
they could go to college and she could not, because there was no college in the 
countrv that would take girl students. 



Elizabeih Cadij Stanto)!. 



267 



But this did not prevent her from making- the most of herself, and proving her 
abihty in spite of poor opportunities. She toolv an interest in the affairs of the 
country, and so far as it was possible made as much of herself as colleg'e training* 
could of the boys of her class. So she grew up to be both a finely educated and 
an earnest, noble-minded woman. 

Her interest and desire to help went out to all that was right, and every wrong- 
excited her sympathies. She was her husband's helper in anti-slavery work, and 




Elizabeth Cady Stanton. 

finally she took up the cause of women's rights with still greater zeal. Perhaps 
this came through the influence of the sweet Quakeress, Mrs. Mott ; the way the 
women were treated at the World's Convention may have roused all the old feeling 
of little Elizabeth Cady against the wrongs of women, until she resolved to throw 
her whole strength into the cause of having- them righted. At any rate, when Mrs. 
Stanton returned from the Convention, it was with her mind made up to devoting 
the energies of her life to resisting- all the injustices of law and custom ag-ainst 
women. She was one of the foremost in having- the first Women's Rights Con- 



368 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

vention held at Seneca Falls, New Yoi-k, in 1848 ; and since that time she has 
labored most earnestly in creating- a new feeling- among the people toward securing 
fair laws and just rights toward women. Her speeches are some of the most elo- 
quent made by any American orator, and the charm of her sweet face, her fine, 
well-bred manners, and her just mind have won for her the highest praise and 
respect, in both England and Amei'ica. 

Mrs, Stanton was born at Johnstown, New York, November 12, 1816. 

Among the other great women who have devoted their lives to the rights of 
women, are Mrs. Lucy Stone-Blackwell, who has been for many years the editor 
of the Women's Journal in Boston, and is one of the most accomplished and 
charming ladies and polished speakers of her time. Her sister-in-law, Mrs. An- 
toinette Brown-Blackwel], and Mrs. Susan B. Anthony, are also noble and emi- 
nent workers in the same cause. 

Every boy and girl who cares for learning- and who has had chances to get a 
good education, must love and honor the great philanthropists who have given us 
good schools, who have founded and endowed our colleges, and given us so many 
libraries and institutes for* almost all kinds of study. 

There was a time — not very long ago — when it was almost impossible for any 
except wealthy people to give their children half as much education as every grad- 
uate of a city grammar school now has, and it has only been by the most 
earnest effort and untiring labor on the part of a few men and women in every com- 
munity that the need of better chances has been made clear to the people, and the 
means of supplj'ing them have been raised, and the best methods of teaching have 
been discovered and brought into use. The man who probably did most to secure 
the good public schools that the young folks of America have been enjoying for 
the last quarter of a century, and which are all the time growing better, was the 
honored teacher and statesman, Horace Manii. He knew himself what it was 
to want an education and have scarcely any way of getting it, for he was the son 
of a poor Massachusetts farmer, and lived where there were few books, and those 
were small and miserable, while his teachers, he says, "were very good people, 
but very pooi- teachers." He earned some books by braiding straw, when he was 
little, but as he grew older, his life was filled with long- hours of hard work, so 
that to get any time at all for study, he had to go without sleep that he needed. 

When he was about twenty yeai-s old he began to learn something of Latin, and 
m about six months he had prepared himself for Brown University, at Providence, 
Rhode Island. He entered the sophomore class, and graduated with the highest 
honors in the year 1819. Then he studied law, and four ^^ears afterward he was 



Horace Mann. 269 

.admitted to the bar. He began at once to practice, with a firm resolve never to 
take the unjust side of any cause. He kept to this resolution all his life, and it is 
said of all the contested cases in which he took part, he gained four out of every 
five. He was not long- in rising- in his profession. No one could know him and 
hear him speak without feeling- the sincere and honest purpose that underlaid all 
that he said and did. It was this as much as his strong- and forcible eloquence that 
held the secret of his g-reat influence over the juries before him, and made him a 
successful advocate. 

In 18-27 he entered the Massachusetts Leg-islature, where he was soon noted for 
his zeal in the causes of temperance and education. After a few years he was State 
Senator, and step by step he rose hig-her in power and influence every year. 

Many of the forward measures taken by Massachusetts during the second and 
third quarters of this century were due to the labors of Mr. Mann. He was fore- 
most in having- the Lunatic Hospital founded at Worcester, where poor people 
who lose their minds ma}^ be taken care of partlj^ or wholly at the cost of the State. 
He also held the position of Secretary of the State Board of Education for eleven 
years ; and it is said that from the moment he undertook these duties he gave to 
them undivided attention and unfailing zeal. He not only labored to improve the 
schools and the teaching in the State, but gave lectures, and wrote articles and 
letters which showed the value of education, told what poor chances there were for 
it in this country, and aroused an interest in it that had never been felt before. 
This was the means of having- better school-houses, books, and teachers, and 
awakened both parents and trustees to do more than they had ever thought of 
before. He succeeded in having the school laws changed for the better, and made 
over the whole system by which children were taught ; and after his second mar- 
riage, in 1843, he made a visit to Europe almost on piu^pose to go to the schools 
of foreign countries for the sake of improving- those at home. 

Five years later he was sent to Congress, to take the place of John Quincy 
Adams who had just died. His first speech was upon the right and duty of Con- 
gress to keep slavery out of the Territories. At about this time, but not in this 
speech he said : " Interference with slavery will excite civil commotion in the 
South. Still, it is best to interfere. Now is the time to see whether the Union is 
a rope of sand or a band of steel. . . . Dark clouds overhang the future ; and 
that is not all ; they are full of lightning. ... I really think if we insist upon 
passing the Wilmot Proviso [which was to shut out slavei-y from new lands in the 
South and West] that the South would rebel, but J would pass it, rebellion or not. 
I consider no evil so great as that of the extension of slavery." 

He served two terms in Congress, but dkl not return again, for in 1852 — when 
he was fifty-six years old — he became the president of Antioch College in Ohio. 



270 



One Hundred Famous Americans, 



At the same time that he received this invitation he was also elected Governor of 
Massachusetts, but he chose the college work, for he thoug-ht that was in greater 
need of him. It was a young school, not yet well started, and much in want of a 




Horace Manx. 



working president, good support, and cart'ful management. He went out to it 
and undertook all its duties with deep earnestness. But it was a greater task 
than he could bear, and after seven years of hard labor toward making it successful 



Stephen Girard. 



371 



in every way, his health broke down completel3^ Many of the pupils had scarcely 
reached home after commencement, before the noble life of their friend and teacher 
was over. 

Horace Mann was born in Franklin, Massachusetts, May 4, 1796. He died at 
Yellow Springs, Ohio, Aug-ust 2, 1859. 



At the beginning of this century the most noted man in Philadelphia was 
Stephen Girard. He had been a sailor and was now a banker and a finan- 
cier. But he was as famous for his oddness, or eccentricity, and his benevolence, as 
for his great wealth. When he was thirteen years 
old he had left his home at Bordeaux in France, 
and shipped as a cabin-boy to the West Indies and 
New York. In these voyages he learned all he 
could about sea-faring life, and worked his way up 
until, by the time he was twenty- six years old, he 
had command of a vessel that coasted along the 
eastern shore of North America. 

On his way from New Orleans to Canada, in 
1776, while his vessel was lying becalmed otf the 
mouth of Delaware Bay, he found that he was 
likely to be captured by any of the manj^ British 
cruisers then making it their business to take pos- 
session of all the American craft they could. So 
he put in up the Delaware, and stopping at Phila- 
delphia- sold both sloop and cargo and set up a 
grocery and liquor store. He made consider- 
able money here, which he carefull^^ saved, and 

when the war was over, put his capital into the New Orleans and San Domingo 
trade. He knew that business would soon begin to g-row better after the peace 
was made, so he took a good deal of careful thought to be ready to make the most 
of the change. One of his clever schemes was to lease a block of buildings on 
Water Street, in Philadelphia, when he was able to get them for a very low price, 
and to re-let them for a much larger rent as soon as trade revived. Another 
venture was to join his brother in the West India trade. This was followed up 
until the enterprising sailor had a little fortune of thirty thousand dollars. A 
man could do a good deal with that amount of money in those days, so Girard then 
left his brother and carried on the trade by himself. Steadily his wealth grew and 
soon after the partnership was broken fifty thousand dollai's was added to his cap- 
ital by an accident. Two of his vessels were in port at Hayti at the time of the^ 




Stephen Girard 



272 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

negTO-outbreak there, and several planters took their treasure on board the 
American vessels to save it. After leaving all they could carry in the first trip 
they returned to their homes for more, but were probably killed, for they never 
went back to the harbor. At the appointed time for leaving, there was nothing 
for the officers to do but come away with all the treasure on board, for their master 
never allowed his men to disobey orders twice. As soon as they arrived in Phila- 
delphia and told Captain Girard what had happened, he put the valuables in safe- 
keeping and advertised them widely and for a long time. But they were never 
claimed, and, of course, became his. 

As connnerce and foreign trade revived after the Revolution Girard's business 
and wealth grew very fast till there was scarcely any important port in the 
world to Avhich his ships did not go. His trade was especially large with China 
and the East Indies, for they produced articles of g-reat value m the United States 
and in England, and this master merchant knew just how to make the most of the 
products of every port. His captains were told to buy fruits in the warm climates, 
and to sail with them to a northern port, where they sold them to great advantage. 
Then the money was invested in something else, which was carried to another port 
in some distant part of the world where it would bring large prices as a great 
luxury while some other articles— rare elsewhere— could be bought very cheap, and 
sold dearly. 

Girard having been a sea-captain himself and a careful observer in his many 
voyages, knew just what he wanted of his captains, and giving them careful in- 
structions, he required them to do exactly as they were told. It was one of his 
peculiaintios that any man who went against his orders— even if he succeeded 
better than he would have done by Girard's own way— lost his place. "'Once it 
might succeed," he said, "but followed up it would likely lead to losses, and at 
last ruin me." 

This is but one of the ways in which he made his wealth, and Stephen Girard 
was famous as a rich man long before he was known as a philanthropist." About 
the first time that people came to realize the love for others in his nature was when 
the scom\ge of yellow fever spread through Philadelphia in 1793. All the people 
who could, left the city, and those who were stricken were in great distress, with 
scarcely any one to take care of them. An appeal was made for nurses and money ; 
and as soon as it was heard Girard answered with both himself and his wealth. 
He paid for help and supplies of all kinds, and also took the charge of the hospital 
for the infected as his share of the actual work. He nursed the sick and watched 
the dying during all the terrible rage of the fever througho\it the whole city ; and 
many a poor victim who never- reached the hospital owed his recovery or his last 
.comfort to the great shipmaster, whom everybody said was queer and testy, yet 



Stephen Girai^d. 2T3 

who walked into the midst of the deadly fever and daily risked his own life for the 
sake of others. At last the scourg-e was over ; it had taken with it one-sixth of 
the people it found in the city, and many who were left were helpless children. To 
these Girard made himself a second father, and two hundred little boys and girls 
were provided for by him in an orphan's home. Four years later the scourg-e re- 
turned. It was not so bad this time, for the city was better prepared to care for 
the sick and check the disease, but Girard came forward just as before, freely g-iv- 
ing- his service and his wealth as long- as they were needed. After that his life 
of work and mone^^-makiiig- \vent on in the old way, only with still greater suc- 
cess. 

In the year that the second war with Eng-land broke out he bought the build- 
ing- and most of the stock of the United States Bank of Philadelphia, and beg-an 
his private banking- business, which soon became known as the Girard Bank. He 
began with a capital of one million and two hundred thousand dollars, which he 
afterward raised to four millions, and his business became one of the soundest and 
most respected in the world. Befoi-e long-, the nation had cause to be thankful for 
this. In the third 3'ear of the war, the Government was in g-reat straits and called 
to the people for a loan of five millions. Liberal inducements were offered to 
subscribers by Congress, but the sum could not be i-aised beyond twenty thousand 
dollars, until Girard came forward and offered the whole amount. Then the loan 
became popular, and capitalists began at once to purchase bonds, and Girard 
allowed them to do so. His biog-rapher says, " He was the very sheet-anchor of 
the Government credit during- the whole of that disastrous war," 

Later, he did a g-ood deal toward securing- a charter for the second Bank of the 
United States, and was one of its directors. Many other public enterprises were 
aided by the wealth and influence of this eccentric old gentleman. He built a num- 
ber of the most beautiful blocks of building-s in Philadelphia, and subscribed and 
loaned over three hundred and fifty thousand dollars to the navigation of the 
Schu\ Ikill, which has been of g-reat advantage to Philadelphia and the interior of 
the State. He also subscribed larg-e sums to railroad enterprises, for his whole 
mind was taken up by the cares of business, and of manag-ing- and using- his vast 
fortune, which was worth about nine millions of dollars. 

He had a sour, unhappy nature from childhood, which had been increased by 
personal misfortunes, and was not made brighter either by religion or family 
ties, for Mrs. Girard^once one of the most beautiful ladies of Philadelphia — died 
in an insane aslyum, without ever having had any children. 

Toward the latter part of his life, the great money-holder made careful plans 
for dividing up his wealth after his death. He left legacies to each of his relatives, 
to his captains then in service who broug-ht their vessels safely home, to his ap- 



274 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

prentices and old servants, to Girard Colleg-e for the education of orphans, to the 
improvement of the streets and buildinj^-s of Pliiladelphia, to canal navig-ation in 
Pennsylvania, to a fund for the distressed masters of ships, and to many ditferent 
State and city asylums and schools. His public bequests amounted to almost 
seven millions of dollars, and the private legacies and annuities were several mill- 
ions more. 

His chief legatee was the city of Philadelphia, in trust, and the college was his 
great bequest. Forty-five acres of land and two millions of dollars, or ''more if 
necessary," were provided for it, and careful directions were laid down as to what 
it should be and who for. It stands about two miles from Independence Hall, in 
the northwestern part of the city ; great stone walls enclose the large plot of ground, 
upon which are the beautiful white marble buildings that make up the halls of the 
college. The great main building was made after Mr. Girard's directions, and is 
said to be the finest edifice in the Corinthian style of architecture now standing in 
any part of the world. The college was opened nearly forty years ago and is still 
managed strictly according to the rules laid down in the will. It is for poor white 
boys who have no fathers. They can enter between the ages of six and ten : and 
between fourteen and eighteen are bound or apprenticed to "some suitable occupa- 
tions, as tliose of architecture, navigation, arts, mechanical trades, and manufact- 
ures." The college is large enough for five hundred boys, and has twenty teachers. 
Mr. Girard said that he wanted that the bo^^s should be able to adopt whatever 
form of religion should seem right to them when they had grown to be able to 
think for themselves ; and on that account he stated that no person connected with 
any religious sect, as any sort of an ordained teacher or minister, should ever be 
allowed inside the college grounds for any purpose, not even as a visitor. This 
rule has been always strictly carried out. 

Stephen Girard was born at Bordeaux, in France, May 24, 1750. He died in 
Philadelphia, December 26, 1831. 

As dui'ing the Revolution the public credit was saved by the wealth and repu- 
tation of Robert Morris, and in the War of 1812 by Stephen Girard, so also in 
another dark hour, our weak and doubtful securities were made good by the 
great name of George Peabody. 

This is the story : The famous hard times year of 1837 was one of large 
changes in business and in all the financial affairs of the United States. There 
was a black cloud hanging over the standing of the whole nation. It was a very 
trying time both at home and abroad. America was in disgrace, and American 
credit was almost gone. Mr. Peabody was then a well-known American merchant 
who had lately settled in London. His wealth was great and his judgment and 



George Peahody. 275 

integrity commanded the highest respect. Maryland asked him to help redeem 
her lost credit and one of the ways he took to do it was to show his own faith in 
the nation by buying- American bonds freely, although he risked losing- his fortune 
b^^ doing- so. When foreigners saw that Peabody took a firm stand for the coun- 
try, many of them resolved to trust it, too ; and so it was that he won back the 
world's faith in the United States' securities, through the reputation of his own in- 
teg'rit3^ When the storm was over he modestly- declined any return for his ser- 
vices. 

At this time Mr. Peabody was a neat, plainly-dressed, fine-looking gentleman, 
about forty ^^ears old. He was.known as an open-liearted and generous man, l>ut 
the g-reatness of his work for others came in later years ; now he was an earnest, 
upright, and industrious banker, making- the money which he afterward used for 
the noblest of gifts. 

He came from an able and talented New England family. There had been 
patriots, thinkers, and scholars among- them ; but he inherited no money and no 
position with these finer legacies. He was intended for a business man from the 
first. So as soon as he could read and write and "cast up accounts," he was 
tliought to be ready to leave school and go to work. Ideas have changed since 
then about the education of a business man. 

George was eleven years old when he went into a grocery store in his native 
town, Danvers, Massachusetts. In four years he left that place for a wider field ; 
he had beg-un to show a good deal of talent for business, and thought he could do 
better in a larger town. He went in his uncle's emplo,^' at Georgetown, in the 
District of Columbia. He was there when the British fieet sailed up the Potomac 
to attack the United States capital at the beginning- of the War of 1812 ; and was 
one of the patriotic little band of young- men which stepped up at once to defend 
the city. The fleet only made a threat and Peabody went back to his uncle's 
store, which was much more to his taste than holding- a fort. But this was not 
because he had a good time in the business. Far from it : for he had a large share 
of the managing- to do, and was weighted with a great deal of cai-e and woiiv, all 
for very small pay. Still he was careful and faithful, because that was his place 
and his work. 

But by and by a change came. He found that he was going- to be responsible 
for debts he had no part in contracting-, so he gave up his position. He was not 
idle long. An able and wealthy merchant, Mr. Riggs, offered to form a partner- 
ship with him in the dry-goods business in Baltimore, Mr. Riggs to supply the 
money, Mr. Peabody to undertake the management. He was then only nineteen, 
but his judgment was quick and cautious, clear and sound. He knewhoAv to save 
and how to spend, and was always careful about little things. His will was firm ; 



276 One Hundi'ed Fainous AmericcDis. 

he was energetic, perse\'ei'iug' and industi'ious, ])unctual and faithful in every 
eno-ag'enient. He never made a ti-ansaction that was not perfectly' honorable. 
Beside this he was a knid, courteous g-entleinan to everybody. He could not fail, 
with these qualities and no bad habits. 

The business was a great success ; it hatl branches in many larg-e cities, and 
both partners became very rich men. Mr. Peabody went to Europe many times to 
buy goods, and in 1837 lie settled in London and carried on an European bi'anch of 
the business. He bought heavily of British goods, shipped them to America, re- 
ceiving all kinds of our goods by the return trips of his ^•essels. These found a ready 
sale in England. Gradually, when his customers consigned to his firm they not 
only drew- upon him, but often left with him large amounts of money to be held till 
required, and in this way he soon found himself doing a large banking business. In 
1840, when his lirm changed its name to that of George Peabody & Co., he made 
banking his leading business, and the purchase and sale of American securities 
his specialty. His office became the i-esort of Americans in London, and Mr. Pea- 
body's countrymen always found there a genial and kindly greeting and plenty of 
United States newspapers. He spent carefully, though liberally, living in modest 
bachelor rooms himself and entertaining generously at his club. For many years 
he gave a grand Fourth of July dinner in memory of Amoiican independence, 
which Avas attended by the most distinguished Americans and Britons who might 
be in London at the time. 

He was now one of the richest men of his time, and the extent of his business 
was very large, for in private affairs and in the great ci'isis in America, he had 
gained such i-eputation for strength, courage, and ability in money matters, that 
immense sums Avere continually placed in his hands. 

But it is not the possession of money or any other power that makes a person 
truly great ; it is the way these are used. George Peabod.y used his money for 
the good of others — his people, his country, and his fellow-inen in America and 
Europe. Being a bachelor, he had no family of his own, but he took care of some 
of his relatives. His hard earnings when he was a boy went to his mother and sis- 
ters ; and from the time he was twenty-four years old, he had taken the whole 
of their support on himself. He cheerfully went without things that he might 
give them comf<n't and liappiness when he was pooj- ; and as his wealtli grew, 
so did his desire to use it for others. 

His second public gift was in 1851. Qui' country was still seeing pretty hard 
times, and wlien plans wei-e being made for the Great World's Exhibition in Lon- 
don, Congress either coidd not or would not provide any means for the American 
Department. So Mr. Peabody offered to bear all the expense, and gave all the 
money and attention that was necessaiy to have our country fitly represented. 



Oeorge Peabody. 27T 

The many prizes and hig-h awards that the work of American mechanics and in- 
ventors received, and the great interest that was roused in our industries, and 
the important place that our products took among- the supphes of the world prove 
what a vast loss it would have been to the United States if we had had no Mr. 
Peabody in London, or at least no exhibit there. 

From that time to the end of his life, he was always busy with some g-reat 
charit3^ The next year he gave ten thousand dollars to pay th3 expenses of the 
second Arctic expedition under command of Dr. Kane in search of Sir John Frank- 







George Peabody. 

lin. This is known as the Grinnell Expedition, because Mr. Henry Grinnell, of New 
York, started it by offering the use of his vessel, the Advance, for the trip. 

In the same year that the Grinnell Expedition went out, the town of Danvers 
celebrated its one hundredth anniversary ; and Mr, Peabody sent it a birthday 
present of twenty thousand dollars for an institute and library. He added to this 
gift from time to time until it became over ten times as large as the first sum. 

In 185T, after having been awa}' from his country for twenty years, Mr. Pea- 
body came back to the United States. He visited all the places he had lived in 
before going away, and in Baltimore, where the parent house of the fii'm of Riggs 



278 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

& Peabody was established and had done business for many years, he founded a 
great institute for education. He liad been thinking- over this plan for many 
years, and from the first made very careful arrang-ements to have it a great and 
noblt' institution which should be able to keep up with the times and never be 
too small for its city. Many years were spent in developing it, and in all, he gave 
to it over a million of dollars. It is called the Baltimore Institute, or Peabody In- 
stitute, and has a large free library, an academy of music, a gallery of art, and 
rooms for the Maryland Historical Society, to which he also made a large gift of 
nuiney. The Institute provides free lectures by eminent literary and scientific 
teachers, in a larg-e hall that will seat a great many people. Mr. Peabody saw 
this well begun before he left America. 

Soon after his return to England this noble-hearted philanthi-opist gave away 
another good-sized fortune, to jirovide the poor hard-working people of London 
with pleasant, healthful homes and chances for education and improvement. 
Altogether this gift reached about two million dollars. A great time was made 
about it in England. The Queen was so grateful that she had her poi'trait painted 
on ivory and set in jewels — at a cost of about twenty-five thousand dollars — and 
presiMited it to him as a token of how deepl.y she felt his kindness to her people. 
Slie also offered him a baronetcy, which he declined. 

The English people showed so much gratitude and paid Mr. Peabody so many 
honors for this charity that Americans often say that he did more for London than 
he ditl for his native country; but this is a great injustice. There are seven towns 
beside Danvers in the United States — scattered through the East, the West, and the 
South — to which he either gave or left in his will four hundred and sixty thousand 
dollars, chiefly for churches, institutes, libraries, or colleges ; a hundred and fifty 
Ihousand dollars each were given to Harvard and to Yale Colleges, while three 
niilliojis and a half were placed in a fund for education in the South. This with 
1 he one million sixty thousand for the Baltimore Institute and the Maryland His- 
torical Society, the two hinidred and fifty thousand for Danvers, the Yale and 
Harvard bequests, and the gifts to institutions in the seven other towns, the ten 
Ihousand on the Arctic Expedition, the five millions willed to Mr. Peabody's 
relatives and frie^ids, and the two hundi'ed thousand in scattered little gifts, 
make up al)out ten millions of his wealth that have been used for the public and 
private welfare of people in this country, Avhile the whole of his English bequest 
was two millions five hundi-ed thousand, just one million less than the Southern 
Educational Fund, alone. 

^Ir. Peabody began to make almost all his bequests early enoug'h to see for 
himself that they were cari'ied out. Many men of great wealth have left money to 
be given to good causes after their death, with directions for its use — sometimes 



Peter Cooper. 279 

to be followed and sometimes to be quarreled over and wasted. Mr. Peabody 
chose the better way. He put his money where he saw it was needed, and was 
all the g-reater in his g-iving- that he did not wait until he could have no use for 
it himself. 

Althoug'h he would not accept the baronetcy from the Queen, and all the public 
honors that both England and America were anxious to pay, no modesty could re- 
tire from the place lie had in all hearts, and which merit alone can win. When his 
death came, it was an international loss. The body was laid in state at West- 
minster Abbey in London, and was afterwards brought to this country in a royal 
man-of-war, where it was received with the highest respect and buried with na- 
tional lionors. 

George Peabody was born in South Danvers, now Peabody, Massachusetts, 
February IS, 1795. He died in London, England, November 4, 1869. 

The great object of the life of Peter Cooper Avas to raise and educate people 
who have to work for their living-. All the latter part of his life — which onl^- closed 
about three years ago — was spent foi* this object ; and, although he built his Insti- 
tute and carried out his plans in the city of New York, their benefits extend 
throughout the whole of the United States. 

Peter Cooper's father always believed that his son would "come to something'. " 
He had named Peter after the great Apostle, and he expected his boy to live 
worthy of it. When he was just tall enough for his head to be above the table, he 
began to help his father, who was a hatter, by pulling tlie hair out of rabbit-skins. 
He stayed in this business till he learned eveiy part of the work of maldng- beaver 
hats ; and as he was very eag-er for an education, he was allowed meanwhile to g'O 
to school during half of each day for a year. That was all the schooling he ever 
had. 

When Peter was seventeen his father sold out tliis business and set up in 
another. Then he learned all about a bi-ewery and the making' of beer. But after 
awhile he asked his father if he might not leave it and learn something- else. Old 
Mr. Coopei- said yes, and the young man l)ound himself to a New York coach- 
maker. After he had served his full time — which was until he became of ag'e — his 
employer offered to build him a shop and set him up in business. " But,"' he says, 
"as I always had a horror of being- burdened with debt, and having' no capital of 
my own, I declined his kind offer.'' 

It was during this apprenticeship — from the time he was seventeen until he was 
twenty-one — that he felt most keenly his loss of schooling- during- his early years. 
To be sure, he had been all that time receiving another kind of education, for he 
stepped into manhood with three g-ood trades at his command ; but this was not 



280 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

enoiig'h. He knew it, so he bought some books and set about trying to supply 
what he lacked. But there were few books in those days that helped anybody to- 
teach himself, althoug-h they are plentiful now ; and those that he bought were sa 
heavy and learned that he could not understand a g'ood deal of what they con- 
tained. He looked about for other help. There were then no evening schools or 
free classes to aid him, but he finally found a teacher who, for small pay, gave 
him evening lessons in arithmetic and other branches. It was at this time that he 
resolved, " If ever I prosper in business so as to acquire more property than I 
need, I will try to found an institution in New York wherein apprentice-boys and 
young- mechanics shall have a chance to g-et knowledg-e in the evening-." He never 
lost sight of this plan, althoug-h it was a long time before he beg-an to carry it 
out. 

After his apprenticeship Avas over, he first found employment in a shop where 
machines for shearing- cloth were made. Here he learned another trade, and saved 
enough money from his wag-es to buy the right to make the shearing-machines in 
New York. At this he g-rew quite prosperous for those times — which was about 
the beginning- of the second war with England — and felt very much elated after a 
large sale to tind he had five hundred dollars clear profits. What do you think 
he did Avith it ? Paid his father's debts ! 

He had a g-ood deal of ingenuity and made some improvement on these ma- 
chines that was very successful. This business continued large and prosperous 
until the close of the War of 1812. Then the demand g-rew smaller and he g-ave 
it up. 

Finding- a small out-of-town g-rocer}^ business for sale he boug-ht it, and at the 
ag-e of tAventy- three took up another new occupation. The store stood where the 
Cooper Union now is. This was then some distance above the city, and was sur- 
rounded by fields and vacant lots. But Mr. Cooper's object in buying it was not 
trade. It was property for his Institute he was thinking- of. This plot mig-ht be 
out in the countrj^ then, but he reckoned that it would be a central spot in the fast- 
g-rowing- city by the time he should be able to build his evening- school ; and now 
the land was cheap, so he bought it, and moved up there with his family — for he 
was married by this time — and undertook the little grocery business till he made 
that pay, too. 

Before long-, he was also the owner of a glue factory, which he soon made the 
most important in the covuitry. What he had made by building- machines and in 
his new store, enabled him to pay for the g-lue factoi-y the day he bought it. He 
was at the same time supporting- his ag-ed parents, two sisters, and paying- for his 
brother's education in medicine. 

This was thirty years before he beg-an to build the school, but itwus the lu'giii- 



Peter Cooper. 



281 



ning- toward it. Whenever he found any of the adjoining pieces of ground for 
sale and could spare the money, he added them to the first plot, until, in 1854, he 
owned the whole block on Astor Place, where Third and Fourth Avenues meet. 

Meanwhile, the glue and isinglass business prospered, and their owner entered 
into other enterprises. In 1828— about fourteen years after he moved up town— 





-^1 



/ 



/ 



/ 



/ 






Peter Cooper. 

he became interested in Baltimore property. There was great excitement in the 
"Monumental City" then, roused bj^ the promise that the Baltimore and Ohio 
Railroad would soon be finished. Peter Cooper bought three thousand acres of 
land within the city limits for one hundred and five thousand dollars, hoping, like 
the others who invested at that time, that great things would come out of the 
new road. But this was a very costly enterprise. Before the first year was. 



282 One Hundred Fcunons Americans. 

passed all the money subscribed for the road was used and the stockliolders 
.seemed likely to lose all they had put in, and refused to supply any more. It was 
then that Cooper's inventive genius did gTeat service. He asked the g-entlemen 
to hold on a little and he would show them a steam-engine that mig-lit be used 
upon the road. He then designed and built the first locomotive eng-ine made in 
America. 

He says : '' This locomotive was built to show that cars could be drawn around 
.short curves, beyond an^^thing believed possible. Its success proved that rail- 
roads could l)e built in a country scarce of capital and with immense stretches of 
very rough country to pass, in order to connect commerce centers, without the 
deep cuts, the tunneling, and leveling which short curves might a\'oid." 

The locomotive was a success, and saved the great Baltimore and Ohio Rail- 
road fi'om being bankrupt at the outset and abandoned. But this did not bring 
Cooper any immediate use or return for the Baltimore land. Until the city re- 
covered from the check in its prosperity that was likely to be of scarcely any 
value ; so he made up his mind to build a I'olling-mill upon it. 

He set to work upon this plan at once, and before long the Canton Iron Works 
were very prosperous and widely known, for in them many great improvements 
were first made in the process of the blast-furnace. They were afterwards re- 
moved to Trenton, and for many years brought immense profit to Mr. Cooper, as 
they now do to his heirs. 

During all this time Mr. Cooper had continued in the North the manufacture of 
glue, isinglass, oil, prepared chalk, and Paris white ; the grinding of white lead, and 
the fulling of buckskins for the manufacture of buckskin leather. But his time 
was not all given to these, numerous as they were. There was scarcelj^ any great 
work of public improvement or philanthrojn- that he was not interested in, and 
helping along. He was one of the first to aid and encourage building telegraph 
lines in this country, and for eighteen years he was President of the New York, 
Newfoundland, and London Telegraph Company. Governor De Witt Clinton found 
him one of his best helpers in forwarding the Erie Canal scheme, and when the 
question came up of how the boats should l)e pi'opelled, Cooper invented an end- 
less chain arrangement with which experiments were tried before the Governor 
and a distinguished party of canal men. It was not then made use of, but lias 
since been adopted to pass boats through the locks. 

In New York City he served in puljlic offices upon the Boards of Assistants 
and of Aldermen. He drew together the old Public Scliool Society and did a great 
deal for the common schools, which has since been followed up by the Board of 
Education, with many vast improvements on the old system. 

In 1854 his plans were ready and his means large enough to begin his long- 



Peter Coojjer. 






thoug-ht-of iiig-ht school. But he made it much more than that, and estahhshed 
the Cooper Institute, with the purpose that it should be "forever devoted to the 
improvement and instruction of the inhabitants of the United States in practical 
science and art." He not only g-ave to it a great deal of money, but time and 
thought, and ever so much hard woi-k right in the building. He was there a 
g-reat deal of tlie time, constantly altering and adding to it wherever he saw im- 




CooPER Union. 

provements wanting. It is the finest free school of its kind in the country, and 
will remain a moniunent to him forever. Over two thousand pupils attend it 
every year, coming from all parts of the United States. 

The erect, well-built figure of the founder, and his pleasant, kindly face in its 
frame of snowy-white hair were familiar sights to the students for almost thirty 
years, for he lived to be ninety-two — active, hale and hearty, constantly adding' to 
the long list of his good deeds for others. 

Peter Cooper was born February 12, 1T91, in New York City, where he died 
on the -Ith of April, 1883. 



EMINENT DIVINES. 



ONE of the first great Christian ministers and preacliers in America was 
John Eliot, wiio will always be known as the Apostle of the Indians. 
Tliis honorable title was won by his devotion and snccess in teaching- and convert- 
ing" the red men of New Eng-land. 

He came to this country, from England, when he was twenty-seven years old, 
and it was here that he preached and wrote and taug-ht thronghout his long- life. 
His parents were very devoted Christians, and he himself said that his first yeai's 
" were seasoned with the fear of God, the Word, and pi^ayer." 

He was thoroug-hly educated at the University of Cambridg-e, where he was 
considered a g*ood student and an able scholai\ He showed a special fondness for 
the study of lang'uag'es, and this taste was of service to him in later years, when 
he undertook the great work of translatiug- the Bible into the Indian tongue. 

Mr. Eliot belong'ed to a family of English Puritans, and when he made up his 
mind to become a minister his heart was drawn toward the Puritan colony in the 
New World ; so he decided to leave his home and come to work among them. 
Among his fellow-passengers in the ■ long sailing voyage to this cotmtry were the 
wife and children of John Winthrop, Governor of Massachusetts. 

H(» preached first for a church in Boston, and afterwards for one in Roxbui'v ; 
but though successful and popular in both those places, it was not in them, but by 
his work among the Indians, that he became famous. From his first entrance 
into this new, wild, and almost unknown country, he had been interested in the 
welfare of the savages that then occupied the land. They were very ignorant 
and uncivilized. They roamed over the country and liad no settled homes. They 
lived almost entirely by huntiug and fishing, and knew vei-y little about farming, 
and nothing of the useful trades and arts, such as liouse-building, cloth-weaving, 
or road-building, while the very words " education " and " religion " as we 
understand them were unknown to them. They lived in rude tents, called wig- 
wams, and were onl^' half-covered by the animal skins they wore for clotlies. 



John Eliot. 285 

Their only religion was made up of superstitions about dead people; their chiefs 
or sachems were often men a little more cunning- and shrewd than the other In- 
dians, who used their power to abuse and deceive their followers. John Eliot 
saw their degradation and longed to convert them to Christianity and to civilize 
them. 

Finally he resolved to give up his regular and — for a Puritan pastor — his com- 
fortable position in Roxbury to go into the wilderness and minister to them. 
But before doing this he spent a great deal of time and patient work upon learn- 
ing the Indian language, in order to be able to speak to the savages in their own 
tongue, to have them feel that he understood them and was almost one of them. 
It is believed that he came to know this language far better than any white man 
who ever lived, and his great feat of putting it into written words and letters was 
a wonderful piece of work. He not only translated the whole of the Bible into 
the Indian language, but he made an Indian grammar to help others to get ac- 
quainted with the strange language of the first Americans. At the end of the 
grammar he wrote, " Pi-ayer and pains, through faith in Jesus Christ, will do any- 
thing." 

Man^' of the Indians were glad to listen to Eliot's preaching, and gathered 
about him, eager to hear all that he said, and to see all that he did. In the 
quaint old records of his work, there are many stories of the curious questions 
they asked him. One Indian wanted to know if Jesus Christ could understand 
prayer in the Indian language, and another asked how all the world became full of 
people if they were once all drowned. 

But the grand old missionary did not find all ready to bid him welcome. There 
was g'reat opposition to him and his teachings among some of the red men, so 
that he was in great dangers for his life in staying among them. John Eliot 
needed to be the brave man that he was to face the experiences he endured. Often 
the Indian chiefs did all they could to put difficulties in his way, by hindering 'him 
fi'om cai'iying out his work and to scare him into giving- it up, because they were 
afraid of losing their power through his influence. He made long journeys alone 
on foot thi-ough the wilderness, and bore all the hardships of hunger and danger 
and exposure, without a word of complaint, even cheerfully, saying, •' I am about 
the woi'k of God, I need not fear." 

One of Eliot's dearest hopes was to establish towns for the men and women he 
had taught to believe in Christianity, where they might leave their old savage 
life, and dwell more as civilized people do. He did not wish to have these towns, 
when they were finally founded, too near the English settlements. It would be 
better, he thought, for them to be by themselves, and to learn to live according 
to their own understanding of religion rather than to copy the ways of any of the 



286 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

white people. He obtained tracts of land for his "praying- Indians," as they 
were called, and he taught them to raise crops, and pursue other peaceful in- 
dustries. 

His first town was settled at Natick, Massachusetts, in the year 1660 ; and 
the meeting-house built there was the first ever raised by Protestants for the use 
of Amei'ican Indians. The Jesuits already had several stations along- the St. 
Lawrence and the great lakes. Eliot also established a government in at least 
thirteen other little communities, all on purely religious principles, aiming to 
make the Bible their only law-book. 

In 16G3 his complete ti-anslation of the Bible was published. Only two eilitions 
were ever printed. Indian disturbances and wars came on that greatly inter- 
fered with the great missionary's efiorts. In about eight years the blood 3' strug- 
gle known as King Philip's Wai' began, and thi-ough the unfairness and ci'uelty 
of the whites all missionary work among- the tribes was now in vain. It is believed 
that there were about five thousand " praying Indians " in America at this time. 

Eliot did all he could to save his converts from the injustices of the colonists, 
but the feeling against all Indians was ver^- bitter, and many of them wei'e sold 
into slavei-y. 

He was now an old man, and his life-work was desti'oycd. Still he kept on 
hoping that some one would yet contrive to bring about the salvation and civiliza- 
tion of the Indian race, and he was comforted by the thought of the souls he be- 
lieved already saved. 

For some time after he became too feeble to preach, he continued writing relig- 
ious books, anxious that to the very last his life should be a useful one in the great 
calling of saving the souls of men. 

John Eliot was born at Nasing, Essex County, England, in 1604. He died at 
Roxbui-y, Massachusetts, on the 20th of May, 1690. 

Increase Mather was one of a famous family of early New England preach- 
ei-s. His father was an English Puritan preacher, his brothers were preachers, 
and in the prime of his own life he saw his son Cotton one of the most noted of all 
the Pui'itan clei'gymen. He was a lad of seventeen, just graduated from Harvard 
College, when the honoi-ed Jolm Eliot was past middle life and his woi-k among the 
Indians almost over. 

Mather was a studious young- man, and clever, but an education at Hai'vard 
College meant much less then than it does now. The great school, like the coun- 
try, was young then, and did not teach nearly so many things, nor so thoroughl^', 
as it does now — for no matter how bright a boy might be, it would be impossible 
for him to graduate there now by the time he was seventeen years old. 



lucredse Mather. 287 

The year after Increase Mather finished his college course he began to preach 
in Massachusetts, but he went to the mother country to assist a brother of his. who 
was settled as a clergyman in Dul>lin, Ireland, After four years' stay, he re- 
turned to America, with a good deal more knowledge and experience than when 
he left it, and began preaching in a church in Boston. 

Di'. Mather was a patriot as well as a clergyman. At this time CUiarles II. was 
King of England, and as those wei-e the days Avhen all New England was made up 
of British colonies, he had authority c^-er it. King Charles was not a good mon- 
arch ; he was a selfish man, and, to raise more money for his own use, began to in- 
terfere with the rights of the American Colonies by taking away some of theii' liber- 
ties and making them pay heavier taxes than the,y were then doing. Dr. ]\Iather 
was fair and honest-minded ; he said this was unjust, and, as he had a wid<' influ- 
ence over the people, lie did a great deal to oppose the king, and to make the people 
of Massachusetts careful of their i-ights. When the trouble between them and the 
king kept on. Dr. Mather went to England as their agent, to ti-y and show the 
king and his ministers how wrongly the Americans were being treated and to get 
him to be more just to them. He succeeded very well, and when he came l>ack 
there was a day of thanksgiving appointed, in which all the colonists joined in 
thanking God for his safe return and for the good he had done them in Eng- 
land. 

Our regular Thanksgiving Day began way back in these times. This is a holi- 
daA' all our own, for no other country has just such a day, just such a good time 
as we on the last Thursday in November. The first Thanksgiving was held for a 
whole week in the autumn of 16'21, about ten months after the Pilgrims landed, 
and after that it was the custom to hold them whenever the people felt that they 
had anything to be especially thankful for. Sometimes there would be two or 
three in a year, and again there would be none for several years. But gradually, 
after about the ATar 1660 — twenty-five years before Dr. Mather's visit to the King 
of England — the Colonies came to liold a regular Thanksgiving festival every au- 
tumn, sometimes in August and sometimes as late as December ; and in addition 
to these, there were special days of thanksgiving proclaimed like this one, all of 
which the people were commanded by law to keep faithfully'. Special fast-days 
were also set by the Governor, for the people to pra^- to have great needs supplied 
or trials removed. 

The Pilgrims had come to this country to be by themselves in a land where 
they could worship God as seemed to them right, not according to the rites of the 
Established Church, as the laws of England commanded ; they were very plain and 
rigid in their ideas of what true religion is, and were also extremely strict in the 
ordering of their lives. Very few of them believed that any other wav than their 



■288 One Hundred Faniuas Americans. 

own was right. Their rehij;ion was the one g-reat matter of their lives, and those 
who (lid not beheve as they did were considered by many as ''servants of the 
Evil One/' which was a terrible thing-. Little was known of science and the nat- 
ural wonders that are now perfectly understood, and if people seemed to have ex- 
traordinary power in attracting- the liking of others, or were more successful than 
their neighbors in almost any way, they were more than likely to be accused of 
having the " Evil Spirit" in them, and of being called witches. Odd and lonely 
old people were especially dreaded on this account. There was great excitement 
about this in New England at one time, and many poor, innocent men and women 
were imprisoned and actuall^^ hung for witchcraft, for it was declared that they 
had the power and the will to charm others and that they would do them no end 
of evil if tliey were allowed to live. The greatest of this excitement came up dur- 
ing Dr. Mather's life. But he had no part in it. He had too broad and fair a 
mind to believe in anj^ such things, and he spoke very strongly against the cruel- 
ties Avhich the people Avere ready to practice on the poor old women whom they 
thought were witches. He wrote a book about it that had a good deal of influ- 
ence, and certainly saved many people's lives. 

He became President of Harvard College when he was forty-two years old, 
iind both as the head of that famous institution and as a minister he held a very 
high rank among the people of the New England Colonies. His books, which 
were upon religious matters and politics, were very many and important: and 
for his great learning he received the first degree of Doctor of Divinity ever given 
to a man in this country. 

He was both able and devout, and a good speaker, often preaching without 
notes, though at that time most ministers read their sermons. 

Increase Mather was born at Portchester, Massachusetts, on the 31st of Janu- 
ary, 1639. He died in Boston on the 23d of August, 17-23. 

Cotton 3Iatlier, brought up in the strict, religious household of his devout 
and honored father, was very pious from his earliest youth. When he was a 
school-boy he would pray with his playmates and try and get them to be good. 
When he was fourteen he began for himself to observe days of fasting and prayer. 
These were not only the regular fast-days that all the New Englanders kept at 
that time, but other days about which he told no one, and during which he repent- 
ed of his sins and prayed God to help him to forsake them. 

He was sedate and studious, and, of course, went to Harvard College, as soon 
as he was prepared. His classmates and liis teachers thought him very bright 
and unusually well educated, and so he was for a New Englander of those times. 
It seems very strange to us to learn that he went through the course there and 



Cotton Mather 



289 



graduated by the time he was fifteen, which is a younger age than any student 
can now enter. 

He studied theoiogy for some time after leaving college, and then was ordained 
minister to the same church where his father preached ; the two men, father and 
son, w^orked together in this church for many years. 

Dr. Cotton Mather was a man of great learning and was also very fond of 




Cotton Mather. 

reading. He had the largest library then in America, read continually, a;nd had 
a wonderful memory. He thought it was such a pity to waste time in common 
talk that he wrote over his study door : *''• Be Short," so as to prevent people stay- 
ing- too long when they came to see him. Still his manner was not rude or cross, 
as this might make one think ; he was kind and gentle, and was an uncommonly 



290 One Hundred Famous AineHcans. 

interesting- talker ; lie had more fun in him than most Puritans, and even liked to> 
joke a little. 

All his learning- and good feeling did not keep him, however, from believing- 
much too easily almost everything that was told him. He did not understand 
different sorts of people and had not good judgment in dealing with them. These 
faults made him much less wise than his father when the excitement about 
witches began. Like many other clergymen of his time, he believed the stories 
that were told about witchcraft and charms and unseen power woi-king evil 
among men. Though the New England people were noted for honest^^ and religion, 
they were in some things superstitious and unchristian, and Cotton Mather, learned 
and thoughtful though he was, joined in the general belief that various persons 
were witches, and that they did things to hurt others ; that they made some folks 
lame and others sick without ever going- near them, and that they caused the cows 
to go drj" and the houses to burn down in the same way. Every misfortune that 
came was laid to the power of some witch. 

Of course the poor people who were called witches could no more do these 
things than any one else, but their neighbors believed they did and that the devil 
helped them, and so many cruel and wicked things were done to them. Some- 
times the}'- were even killed. The clergymen were often as much deceived as any 
others, and actually l^elieved these foolish stories, and took part against tlie poor, 
helpless persons accused of witchcraft. Among them no one was more cruel than 
Cotton Mather, for he thought that in persecuting them he was punishing the 
devil. Still it seems certain that if he had tried to feel more as Christ felt toward 
everybody, even sinners, if he had loved them and felt sorry for them, it would 
have kept him from burning and hanging and torturing his fellow-creatures. 

He Avas even more deceived about them and more in earnest to have them 
punished than were the most of people ; and when others began to feel that per- 
haps they were unjust and doing wrong in being so cruel. Dr. Mather tried very 
hard — though in vain — to still keep up the popular feeling of persecution. 

This is the only blot on the great man's memory ; and in thinking of it we 
must remember that many other good people acted then as he did. because they 
thought it right. They actually believed that there wei-e witches, that there were 
people who had ceased to be real men and women, but had become other beings, 
tilled with the devil, or a wicked spirit, against whom the Bible has many com- 
mands. That was less than two centuries ago, and yet now everybody knows 
that there are no such things as witches. 

In some other things. Dr. Mather was a progressive man— even with the times, 
as we say. It was in his day that inoculation was discovered in the East, as a 
means of preventing people from having the small-pox. He was one of the first 



Jonathan Edwards. 



291, 



to realize the value of this discovery, and laid it before famous old Di-. Boj'lston 
and other New Eng-land ph^'sicians of his time. He also did much to persuade 
people to be inoculated and so stop the spread of this terrible disease. He was 
always benevolent and kind to the poor when he did not think they were witches. 

He wrote many books ; the principal one has a Latin title, " Magnolia Christa 
Americana," and one edition of it was printed as late as 1855. 

Cotton Mather was born the 12th of February, 1063, in Boston, where he died 
on the i;5th of February, 1728. 




Jonathan Edwards. 



One of the greatest of New Eng-land clergymen, and, in some respects, the 
greatest of all American thinkers, was Joiiatliaii Edwards. He was what is 
called a metaphysician, or a scholar learned in the philosoph^y' of the mind ; and it 
is said that few people so great as he in this deep and difficult science have ever 
lived. His mind was uncommonly powerful, from the time he was a little child — 
the only boy among tw^elve sisters. He was only six years old when he began to 
study Latin ; at ten he read Locke's essay on the Human Understanding ; 
and although this is a work that most grown people find too hard to comprehend, 
it gave little Jonathan as much delight as boys of his age nowadays feel in the 
stories in the Youth's Companion or Golden Days. 

When he was thirteen years old he entered Yale College. In addition to the 



293 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

regular course he took up some deep studies on his own account, carrying- on both 
successfully and graduating before he was seventeen. 

Although his father was a minister and a devout man of rare learning for an 
American two hundred years ago, and Jonathan had always been very religious, 
he did not feel that he really became a Christian until during the last year at col- 
lege. Then, he said, the whole universe seemed changed to him ; he resolved to 
i become a minister; and, staying on in New Haven aftei- he graduated, he spent 
the next two years in studying theology. At the age of nineteen he was licensed 
to preach, and began his first work in a small Presbyterian church in New York 
City. He still kept up his studies, and, not long after receiving the degree of 
Master of Arts, he was appointed to be a tutor at his old college of Yale. Al- 
though not yet much over twenty years of age, he was already' becoming known, 
and in a short time he was called away from New Haven to become an assistant 
clergyman to his grandfather, the Reverend Solomon Stoddard, in a Congrega- 
tionalist church in Northampton, Massachusetts. 

Old Mr. Stoddard had been pastor of that church for more than fifty years, 
and now the charge of it was passed into the hands of his promising young grand- 
son. Here Edwards married Sarah Pierrepont, a sweet young Puritan, who will 
always be spoken of with the greatest respect, for she was one of the purest, most 
high-minded, and noblest women that evef lived ; and here he labored with ear- 
nestness and devotion for twentj^-three years. 

It was not an easy, but it was a happy, earnest, useful life, that flowed smoothly 
on, until one day Dr. Edwards spoke out to his people what had been in his mind 
for some time — he I'efused to overlook in the rich and influential people wrong- 
doing which is forbidden to all church-members, and said plainly that he could not 
permit those Avhose lives were inconsistent and vmchristian to take places in the 
church as if they were all that they pi'ofessed to be. Man\^ in his congregation 
were very angr3% and a long and bitter quarrel arose. Finally he was forced to 
leave the church, with a large family and no means of support. But there were 
friends in Scotland who sympathized with him and sent him money, while Mrs. 
Edwards and her daughters did sewing and sent beautiful handiwork to Boston, 
where it was sold and added to the scant income from his new fleld of work, for 
of course Mr. Edwai'ds was not idle. He had soon been asked to go as a mission- 
ary to the Stockbridge Indians in Berkshire County, Massachusetts, and was 
laboring there as devotedly as in the Northampton parish, although it did not sup- 
port his family as well. 

One good thing in this change was that it gave him more time to study and 
write, and it was really as a w).nter that he had the greatest power. He did not 
have a very good A'oice for public speaking, and he was thin and not particularly 



Jonathan Edwards. 293 

pleasing' in his looks, except as people liked the earnestness, the gentleness, and 
goodness they saw there ; and, though he was not an orator, they loved to hear 
him preach because he understood so well what he believed and told it to them so 
clearly and forcibly. 

While in Berkshire County he found time to w^rite his g-reat book on ''The 
Freedom of the Will," which has made him famous ever since, and has been read 
by the most learned men both here and in Europe. He studied very hard at this 
time, spending- usually thirteen hours a day with his books and manuscripts. 
Then when his health was threatened by this confinement he w^ould take long- 
horseback rides, and study and read and pray in the woods. His wife was very 
devoted to him, and wanted him to have all his time for his sermons and his books, 
and so she attended to all the business of the house herself, and did not let people 
interrupt him about little things. 

Mr. Edwards was not content to believe in his religion in any half-hearted way. 
He believed in it more than in anything- else in the world. He felt sure that people 
who followed the teachings of the New Testament would be saved from everlast- 
ing distress, and that people who did not would lose eternal happiness ; and he felt 
so dreadfully to think tliat people whom he knew and preached to should be pun- 
ished through all eternit3' for their sins, that at times the thoug-ht almost crazed 
him. He would walk the floor through long hours of the night weeping- over the 
unconverted members of his flock and praj'ing for them. 

People who \vere in trouble, or anxious about the sijis they had committed, or 
wished to inquire the way to become Christians, always found a sympathetic friend 
and a wise adviser in him. There were many such people to gather around him, 
and men and women often came long- distances to see him. 

In those days ministers had more arguments with each other than they do now. 
One minister, thinking one way, would write out his views or preach them, and 
some other minister who did not altog-ether agree with him would reply and say 
what he thought ; then the first one w^ould answer back ; and thus they would g-o 
on in long debates, each trying- to convince the other of what he thoug-ht true, and 
also trying- to bring- every one interested in the discussion to his way of think- 
ing-. In these arg-uments even ministers often lost their tempers and really' came 
to have ill-feeling toward those who did not agree with them. 

Mr. Edwards, being- known as an eminent divine and a g-reat thinker, often 
took part in such debates as these ; but he was far too Christ-like a g-entleman to 
allow himself to be rude to his opponents, and althoug-h he tried hard to prove 
the truth of his belief and to make others see it as he did, he always treated his 
opponents politely. When they were unkind to him he did not g-et ang-ry, but did 
good for evil. This now does him as much honor as all his religious writings. 



294 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

When he was past fifty 3^ears old the death of his son-iii-hiw, the Reverend 
Aaron Burr, left Princeton Colleg-e without a president, and he was called to 
fill the place. He did not want to g-o, for a quiet life in which he could read and 
study and write seemed much better to him than the honor of being- a college 
president, but he felt that he oug-ht to accept a place that would give him so 
many chances to do good. 

Mr. Edwards only held this position for five weeks. Soon after he accepted it 
he was taken sick with the small-pox, and died in a very short time. His last 
words were, " Trust in God and ye need not fear." 

Jonathan Edwards was born at East Windsor, Connecticut, on the 5th of Octo- 
ber, 1703. He died in Princeton, New Jersey, on the 22d of March, 1758. 

When the Continental Congress declared the American Colonies independent 
of Great Britain, there was one clergyman in their midst, John Witherspooii, 
a Scotchman, who fixed his name to the great paper with as much devotion as if 
he had been born and bred in the most patriotic of New Engiand families. Yet 
he had only been in America ten years. He had come here when he was over 
forty years old, as an eminent Presbyterian clergyman and scholar, in answer to 
an invitation to become president of Princeton College. 

He was a native of the Scottish Lowlands and was of fine old stock, for the 
g-reat John Knox was his ancestor. At the age of fourteen he entered the famous 
University of Edinburgh and there studied until lie was twenty-one, for in those 
days the course of study and the teaching of those old schools far outstripped the 
standard of the little American colleg-es. The hnest scholars in the world went 
there to study, and a student must be very able indeed to become noted among 
them ; yet while Witherspoon was studying theology he actually astonished his 
teachers wlien they found how much he had thought about different matters in 
theology, how deep and wise his understanding of them was, and how clearly he 
was able to express himself about them. 

In the first two cliurches that he had charg-e of after he entered the university, 
he soon made such a reputation by his preaching and writing that he had calls to 
g-o to several foreign countries. He was invited to Dublin and to Rotterdam 
about the same time that the trustees of the College of New Jersey, at Princeton, 
asked him to become its President. Both the other places offered would have 
given him more mone.y, pleasanter surroundings, and friends of more wealth, 
learning, and importance, than the new little college of New Jersey could afford. 
But Dr. Wltliorspoon thought tliat he could do more good in this country than in 
learned Dublin or wealthy Rotterdam; so here he came and settled in the little 
out>of-the-way New Jersey village. He was so well known for \)\ety and learning 



Timothy Dtvight. 295 

even here — far as it was fi'om where he had been hving- — that as soon as he 
took charg-e of the colleg-e a great many new students beg-an to g'o to it from 
all parts of the Colonies. He was a g-reat and successful worker, and his labors 
soon beg-an to tell in the college. Money and students poured into it, so that 
by the time the Revolution beg-an it was in a very flourishing- condition. 

But this g-reat event turned the thoug-hts of all our people, young- and old, 
from the education and future of the rising generation to the g-reat needs and 
perils of the present; throug-hout the length and breadth of the land, schools 
and colleges were almost forg-otten, Princeton with the rest. Many of her 
young- men went into the army, and her patrons gave all the money they could 
raise to the Government to help buy powder and lead and g'uns to fig-ht the 
English with. Dr. Witherspoon himself joined in with the patriots. The citizens 
of New Jersey were so sure of his wisdom and his loyalty to his adopted country 
that they sent hiin to the convention called to make their State Constitution. 
Here he did so well, showing- that he understood statesmanship as well as theol- 
ogy, that he was sent to the Continental Congress, where he signed the Declara- 
tion of Independence. But while he was busy with State and National politics 
he did not lay aside the ministry. He always thought that to preach the Gospel 
was the highest privilege a man could have. 

As soon as the country" was once more at peace, he went back to Princeton to 
ag-ain help to build up his beloved colleg-e. Many people thoug-ht that if he would 
g-o to Eng'land and Scotland he could g-et a g-ood deal of money to help the work 
along, from people who were interested in America and who wanted to help edu- 
cate its youth. He thoug-ht himself that it was too soon after the war for the 
British people to want to do anything- for the United States ; but on the advice of 
his friends he went. It proved that he was right, foi-, althoug'h he raised a little 
money foi' the college, the journey was an unprofitable one. 

After he came back, the rest of his life was spent in Princeton, quietly at work, 
teaching- and preaching and writing. During the last two years he was blind, 
but he was often led to the pulpit, where he preached with all his usual ease and 
power. 

John Witherspoon was born in Tester, Scotland, February 5, 1733. He died 
in Princeton, New Jersey, November 15, 1794. 

Timothy Dwiglit, one of the greatest of American theologians, was a 
g-randson of Jonathan Edwards. His mother was Mr. Edwards's daug'hter, and 
Dr. Dwig"ht alwa^^s thoug-ht that he owed more to his mother's g-ood influence 
over him when he was a child than to any other one earthly thing-. Mrs. Dwigiit 
was not only a g-ood and pious woman, but she had a fine mind, and was so well 



396 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

educated that she taught her son throug-h all his early years. He was a very 
bright child and learned so easily that when he was four j^ears old he could read 
the Bible very well. He was sent to Yale College when he was fourteen, and 
there, away from the influence of his good mother, he was for a time led into idle- 
ness and wrong-doing. But he soon found that it is neither pleasant nor profit- 
able to misbehave, and so he gave up his newly learned evil wa^^s and began to 
study hard to make up for lost time. 

After he graduated he taught school in New Haven for awhile, and even when 
teaching was so anxious to keep on learning himself that he studied eight hours 
a day. 

When he was nineteen years old he was chosen to be a tutor in Yale College, 
and he kept that position for six years. 

After the Declaration of Independence was adopted by the Continental Con- 
gress, and the news of it spread to New Haven, Dwight — then twenty years old — 
procured a copy of the great document, read it over, and made a speech to the 
students about the important step which Congress had taken. He spoke with 
great wisdom and foresight of the future of this country. The Colonies, or the 
United States as they were to be called, were very small and held but few people 
then, but, said Mi*. Dwight, the growth of the country will be enormous ; and he 
even foretold the manner in which certain States, such as Texas and California, 
would come under the authority of the republic then making its first bold efiort to 
become an independent government. 

About this time Mr. Dwight began to attract the attention of learned and 
thoughtful people by his knowledge of the Bible and his taste and eloquence in 
talking and writing about it. While he was a tutor at Yale he wrote an epic 
poem called " The Conquest of Canaan." He was noted as a fine teacher of math- 
ematics, but he was even more interested in studying and teaching oratory and 
rhetoric. He did not understand taking care of his health, but worked so hard, 
teaching and studying, and took so little exercise out-of-doors that his health broke 
down, and it seemed for awhile that he would never be able to do much more. He 
began to think about taking care of his body now, and to try and do what was 
good for himself, and in a year or so he was well again. After that serious lesson 
he never again neglected his health, but took care to keep as well and strong as 
he could, so that he was able to work for the next forty years. 

During the second year of the Revolution he married, and was also licensed to 
preach by the Congregationalist Church. His first work as a minister was in the 
army, where he was made chaplain to one of the brigades in General Putnam's 
division of the Continental forces. While in the army he wrote several patriotic 
songs ; one of them, called " Columbia," was once quite celebrated. 



Timothy Divight. 297 

He was called awa^^ from the war by the death of his father. His mother \y as 
now ag-ed, and he was her chief comfort and support ; he thought it rii^'ht to stay 
with her, and for sev^eral years his life was spent on the old homestead near 
Northampton ; he worked on the farm, read and studied, and once in a while 
preached in the neig-hboring- villag-es. He was a man of so much learning and wis- 
dom and ability that his neighbors felt that he ought to have a more prominent 
place before the world than this, so they elected him to the Massachusetts Legisla- 
ture. He proved a wise law-maker, but his life was devoted to the ministry, and 



Timothy Dwight. 

he soon wanted to leave political affairs and go back to preaching. Instead of 
settling again on the farm, he accepted a call to a church at Greenfield, Connecti- 
cut, where he received a salary of five hundred dollars a year. This would now 
seem a small sum for any good clergyman, yet a hundred years ago it was all 
that this great man could command, scholar, preacher, and writer though he 
was. 

As he had now a large family of children to bring up and educate, he opened 
a school in which he could teach them and by having other pupils make a little 
money to add to his income at the same time. He stayed in Greenfield for twelve 
years, teaching and preaching and earnestly trying to do all the good he could.. 



'298 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Durhig this time his poem, the " Conquest of Canaan," which he had written so 
many 3^ears before, was published for the first time. Soon after he published 
another poem, called "Greenfield Hill," from the hill where his school-house 
stood. Both of these added to his reputation as a skilled literary scholar and 
gave him a place among- American poets. 

Dr. Dwiii-ht's great talent was for teaching young people. After aAvhile this be- 
came known beyond the little Connecticut village, and he was called to leave Green- 
Held Hill and become president of Yale College. He was asked to undertake even 
more than that, antl while he stood at the head of the college, he was also Profes- 
sor of Theology in the Divinity School. 

For five years, near the close of his life, he spent his summer vacations in 
traveling through New York and the New England States. There were then no 
steamboats or railroads. Sometimes people journeyed in their own carriages or 
I'ode their own horses, and sometimes they went in public stage-coaches that 
charged a fare as railroads do now ; but whatever was the conveyance, travelers 
could go no faster on land than horses could take them, or on water than men 
could row or the wind could blow their sails. So, to travel even a little took 
.a great deal of time and also patience and endurance. 

Dr. Dwight traveled far more than most men did at that time ; when he got 
as far west as Utica, New York, it was thought wonderful that anybody, but 
especially a man of his years, should see so much of the world. 

He wrote about all he saw, and published a description of his wanderings that 
hlled four volumes, and were among the most important l)ooks on America 
brought out during the earl}' part of this century-. Dr. Dwight gave a great 
deal of time to writing in the later years of his life, only laying aside the pen 
toward the very last months. His character was full of faith and humility, and, 
although he had been such a good and useful man all his life, he sorrowed that 
he had not been better and done more for Christ and for his fellow-men. 

Dr. Dwight was born at Northampton, Massachusetts, on the 14th of Maj", 
1752. He died at New Haven, Connecticut, on the 11th of January, 1817. 

Al)out four months before the War of 1812 broke out in this country against 
Great Britain, the first American missionary party to India was made up, and 
sailed for Calcutta. Among them was Adoiiirain Jvidsoii, a young man 
of twenty-four years, who had been ordained a minister in the Congregational 
-Church, just two weeks before. He and his young wife were the leading mem- 
bers of the devout and zealous little band. He had been the means of bringing 
about their undertaking by writing a letter to the Congregational Society in Mas- 
sachusetts, saying that he and five other 3'oung men wanted to go and preach to 



Adoniram Judson. 299 

the heathen, and asking- advice about how to set about it. Soon after receiving- 
this letter the society formed the American Board of Commissioners for Foreig-n 
Missions, and Mr. Judson was sent to talk the matter over with the London Mis- 
sionary Society, and to see if they would aid the Americans. 

Although young, he was already fitted for the work to which he had offered 
Mmself. His father, a Cong-regationalist clergyman in Massachusetts, had taken 
great care to train him to become a g-ood and useful man. His mother, too, g-ave 
a great deal of time to his education. She taug-ht him to read when he was only 
three years old, and took much pains to turn his interests in the right direction. 
Even then he learned remarkably quickly and easily. His first reading-book was 
the Bible. When only a half-grown lad, he was ready for colleg-e, and went to 
the one at Providence, Rhode Island, which is now called Browii University. 
When he was a little boy he used to like to play that he was a preacher ; and 
standing in a chair for a pulpit he would deliver long sermons to other children. 
He would go thi-oug-h all the service as he saw his father do at church, but when 
the time for sing-ing- came, he almost always chose the same hymn — one whose 
first line is '^ Go lireach my gospel, saith the Lord." 

By the time Adoniram was nineteen he graduated from college with the 
highest honors. But instead of planning- to be a minister, as he had wanted to be 
when he was a child, he was for some time uncertain abo-ut the truth of the Chris- 
tian religion. He thought a great deal about it, and there seemed to him many 
reasons why he could not believe it. In this state of mind he thought it would be 
a good thing to go to the Andover Theological Seminary and try to learn from 
the teachers there what evidence there was that Christianity was the only true 
religion. The Andover professors welcomed him, for they were sure that any 
one who was honestly trying- to learn the truth would soon become a Christian. 
They were not disappointed in Mr. Judson. Soon all doubt left his mind. In six 
weeks he was converted, and soon resolved to become a minister himself. 

From the first he wanted to g-o to heathen countries as a missionary. His 
interest in foreign missions helped to make some other students think about the 
need of doing good to the heathen, and not long- a^ter they offered themselves to 
the work the first foreig-n missionary society in America was formed. 

The Miss Hasseltine who married Mr. Judson was a lovely Christian woman, 
who was as much interested in missions as he was. After her marriage she be- 
came one of the most celebrated, devout, and successful missionaries the v'orld has 
ever had. 

With this helpful wife, and with another devout minister and his wife, who 
were also g-oing- to work in the missionary cause, Mr. Judson started for India to 
preach the Gospel to those who had never heard of Christ. 



300 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

On the voyage Mr. and Mrs. Juclson, through their own studies, changed their 
opinions about baptisim. They became convinced that to be immersed was the 
only true way to unite with the Christian Church, and that they were no longer 
Congregationalists, but Baptists. So, very soon after their vessel arrived at 
Calcutta, they were immersed and joined a Baptist church. The influence of 
this step extended to America, and, with other things, awakened a new feeling 
here in regard to missions, and led to the forming of the American Baptist Mis- 
sionary Union, which has been a powerful society for the spreading of the Gospel 
in many lands. 

Mr. Judson soon went to Burmah, where he worked many years, doing every- 
thing he could to teach the nations about Christianity, and to convert them to 
believing in God and Christ. His first convert was baptized about a month after 
he began preacliing, and it made him very glad to feel that he had really begun 
to succeed. All the time he diligently studied the Burmese language, translating 
into it passages of Scripture and other waitings that taught the natives the Chris- 
tian religion. He obtained a printing-press, and printed copies of the Gospel of 
Matthew, which he gave out among the people. 

He and his wife had to endure many hardships ; in writing about him after- 
wards Mrs. Judson told how unpleasant it was for hhn to bear the dirty, rude 
habits of the native people among whom he worked and lived. He wa.s always a 
very fastidious, neat, ordei'ly person. While he did not care wiiat his clothes 
were made of, or how old-fashioned they might be, they had to be clean, if he 
washed them himself. But when he chose this life he expected to take whatever 
it might bring of personal unpleasantness or discomfort, and year after year he 
labored devotedly on. 

After a while he had gathered a church of eighteen members, while the interest 
and friendship of many other natives had been won by the helpful kindness and 
other good traits of character they saw in the Christian missionary and his follow- 
ers. He was just getting well established, when a w^ar broke out between the 
East India Company and Burmah which brought great distress and danger to 
the foreigners in the land. At' that time Dr. Judson was at Ava, the capital ; the 
Burmese officers went to his house, seized him and, binding him with chains, car- 
ried him oft" to prison. For two years he was kept in this wretched condition, not 
only away from his work, but cruelly treated and neglected. He Avas barely 
saved by Mrs. Judson from dying of hunger and suffering. She begged the king's 
favor and made presents to him, and was sometimes allowed to visit her poor 
husband and take things to him. At last he was set free, and began a new mis- 
sion at Amherst. Before long he was again called to Ava to act as interpretei- — 
the same errand that took him there before — and this time met with another afflic- 



Adoniram Judson. 301 

tion, Mrs. Judson, worn out with woi'k and one attack of fever after another, 
died while he was awaj^. 

The next dozen years were spent in very hard but successful ministering and 
preaching-. In the city of Maulmein he was often seen in public pi'eaching and 
reading the Scriptures to any who would stop -to listen. Many gathered about 
him, and a great deal of knowledge was spread among the people in this way. 
Meanwhile Mr. Wade, another missionary, did the same thing in another part of 
the town, and together they formed quite a little church among the natives, al- 
though there was such strong opposition to Christianity that it took a great deal 
of courage for the Burmese to leave their people and acknowledge themselves of 
the missionaries' religion. 

In addition to his labors in the city. Dr. Judson made several trips into the 
country, and lent his powerful aid to many branches of the good work ; but soon 
after he reached the age of fifty he began to have a great deal of ti^ouble in bad 
health. He made several changes, but finally', in 1845, he left Burmah with his 
whole family. There was now a new Mrs. Judson, who was the widow of Dr. 
Boardman. and a great and noble woman. She had been for many years earnest 
and active in mission woi'k in Burmah with her first husband, but now she was in 
bad health and her life, it was thought, could only be saved by returning at once 
to America. Even this was in vain; she died at sea, and, leaving her buried on 
the island of St. Helena, her husband came on to America with his motherless 
children. 

It was thirty-four years since he had left home. The people who remem- 
bered him as a fair-faced young student of twent3'-four, now saw a middle-aged 
man, so tanned that he Avas almost as dark as a native of the sunny land from 
which he had come. If the people who remembered him when he left them were 
sui'prised at the change time had made in him, so also was he surpi-ised at many 
great changes in the land and the people he had left. The greatest difference 
he saw was in the way Christian people had grown to feel about foreign missions. 
When he had g'one away few persons took any interest in them, and many did not 
believe in them ; when he came back he found all the churches eager to do all they 
could to make Christians of the heathen. Besides this, he was surprised to find 
that he and his work were so well known that thousands of people were eager to 
see and hear him. 

He stayed here less than a year and then went back to Burmah, with tlie cele- 
brated writer, "Fanny Forrester" — whose real name had l)een Miss Emily 
Chubbuck— for his wife. But he was not to work there much longer. In a few 
years his health failed, and he died while trying- to regain it so as to be able to go 
on with the missionary work which he loved above almost anything else in the world. 



302 Otie Hundred Famous Amer^icans. 

But he had ah^eady done so much that it did not stop with his death. He left 
many native Christians, anxious to lead their counti-ymen, a number of good 
native teachers and pastors whom he had trained, a Burmese Bible, and other good 
books, and a large Burmese-English dictionary that was not quite linislied. 
With these the g-ood woi-k was started to g'O on forever. 

Mr. Judson was born in Maiden, Massachusetts, on the 9th of August, 1788. 
He died on ship-board on the Indian seas on the 12th of April, 1850. 

One of the most gifted and celebrated clergymen who ever preached the Gospel 
and worked for Christianity in this country was John Joseph Hughes, the 
first Roman Catholic Archbishop of New York. He was born in Ireland near 
the end of the last century, and came to this country wdien he was twenty years 
old. His chief desire from the time he was a very little boy w^as to become a^ 
priest in the Catholic Church. He was encouraged in this by his father and 
mother. They were gfood, uprig-ht, industrious people of the small farming- class 
of Ulster, Ireland. Both were earnest and devout, and the father was fond of 
reading- and was better educated than many of the men of his standing. Both 
Mr. and Mrs. Hug-hes took the greatest pains to train theii- children to be pious 
and firm in their faith in the Catholic Church. 

As soon as John was old enough he was sent with his older brothers to a day- 
school near their home, and after that he weiit to a g-rammar-school at a town 
two or three miles away. In both places he was a serious, hard-working- student, 
but a jolly playfellow when he left his books, and a leader in the boys' sports. 
Whatever he did was done in earnest, whether it was woi-k, stud}', or play. In 
these days at his old home John Hughes laid the foundation of a g-ood Euglish 
education, but of Latin and Greek he knew very little, perhaps nothing : yet these 
and many more thing-s must be studied before he could enter the ministry ; and 
meanwhile his father's farms — for Patrick Hug-hes owned two sizable places at 
one time — had fared ill, the household was in distress, John had to be brought 
home fi'om school. The neighboi'S offered to make up a purse to help him along- in 
his stud}' for the j)riesthood, but both father and son felt too proud to accept it. 
So he took his share of manual work with the other boj's, but was told to save 
a little time for his studies. 

This was two years before he came to America, and he was eig-hteen years old. 
Obediently, but not cheerfully, he returned to the farm, but before long-, seeing- he 
felt ver}-- unhappy, his father got a place for him on a gi-eat country-seat near 
by, where the gardener had said he would teach the lad gardening — a ^•ery good 
thing for him it proved in another country. He did his duty here, found time tO' 
help in light tasks about the home-farm beside, and, in addition to both, spent 



John Joseph Hughes. 



305 



most of his niii'lit hours in study. This was not because he was very fond of study 
for its own sake, Init because a priest must have some learning-, and he was re- 
solved to be a priest in spite of all difficulties. 




John Jt>sEPH Hughes. 

As time went on the Hughes's farm seemed to do no better. Crops did not im- 
prove ; and at last, after many talks about it, the father decided to see what he 
could find in the new country across the sea. He took one son with him, leaving- 
his wife and daughters with John and another boy to look after their place. 



304 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Tliere was another great reason with them why the^' hoped to find a home in 
America. There, the^^ knew, the CathoUc rehgion was free from persecution, 
while in Ireland its followers were sometimes ill-used by the Protestants of the 
Established Church of the Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. When the 
father sent word for them to follow him John was probably the happiest of all the 
family in the prospect of living in the great free country. 

He came by himself, a year after the father, and reached the United States in 
1817, when he was twenty years old. He soon got to work, although for quite a 
long Avhile it was mostly hard labor at ditch-dig-ging, road-mending-, and stone- 
breaking, any honest thing he could find to do. But all the time he w^as longing 
to continue his education so that he might become a priest in the Catholic Church. 
He tried to save up money to g-o to college, but his wages were so small that his 
savings accumulated very slowly. 

He heard when he was about twenty-one that poor students were sometimes 
admitted free to Mount St. Mary's Catholic College and Theological Seminary, 
near Emmitsburg-, Maryland. 

John Hughes had no powerful friends to introduce or recommend him, so he 
went there alone and asked if he could enter. But the college could only take a 
limited number of free students at a time, and the list was already full when he 
applied. He was noi easily discouraged, and went there ag-ain and again to see 
if an.>- vacancy had occurred. Finally, lest he should miss the priceless chance 
when it did come, he went to Emmitsburg- to stay, getting- whatever work he 
could to support himself till the longed-for opportunity should come. Though he 
worked as an ordinary day-laboi"er, he showed so much mind and character, and 
was so gentlemanly in his behavior that his societj^ was sought by people much 
above him in worldh' position. He boarded in the house of the village school- 
master, and spent much time with the parish priest. 

Finally he got so tired waiting for a vacancy in the free list that he went to the 
president and begged him to let him enter the college and pay his tuition by 
work ; he was willing to do anything- that was needed about the place. 

Pi-esident Du Bois said there was only one such situation then vacant ; that 
was the gardener's : the college needed a g-ardener. John Hughes said that gar- 
dening- was not his reg"ular business, hut he knew something about the work, and 
thought he could fill the place satisfactorily. So, at the ag-e of twenty-two, as 
head gardener and special student he entered Mount St. Mary's College. He was 
not fitted to enter the classes at once, but studied with a private teacher for some 
months before becoming a regular student. 

This happy life of hard study and careful superintending the laborers on the 
college grounds had been going on for almost a ^•ear, when one day President 



John Joseph Hughes. 305 

Du Bois found Hug-hes in the garden at dinner-time, poring- over his book, 
instead of eating- his meal. "This," thought the good president, "is wonderful 
industry," and he began to question the young man upon his studies. The 
answers astonished him ; the rapid progress Hughes had made revealed to him 
that this capable gardener and eager student was much moi-e than an ordinary 
person. He resolved that in future he should have very little gardening to do, and 
should have the chance to devote most of his time to his books. 

Here at college John Hughes showed something of that love of argument and 
•devotion in defending his Church which were most marked traits in his character 
when he became a great and noted man. 

About four years after he first worked his way into the college, he began to 
study theology and to feel that the great desire of his life was surely coming 
within his grasp. In two years more he was made a deacon and began to preach, 
and in the next year — 1826 — he was ordained priest. He was then about twenty- 
nine years old. The first parish put in his charge was in a rough, thinly-settled 
mountain district of Pennsylvania, which he soon left to go to Philadelphia. 

His tireless zeal and devotion, together with his bright mind and increasing- 
eloquence had already impressed many people. There had been much trouble and 
dissension in the Catholic congregations of Philadelphia before he went there, and 
tlie place he was to fill needed a man of sound wisdom and Christian feeling. Mr. 
Hughes acted with a great deal of discretion and made many friends. He tlien — 
;as alwa^'s — devoted every moment that he could to such reading and study as he 
lioped would better fit him for his life-work. He was so successful that he soon 
l)ecame a noted man in the Catholic Church of America ; he worked for everything 
that he felt to be the good of religion, and was so unceasing in his labors that if 
he had not been an imcommonly strong man he would have broken down his 
health. 

At the age of forty he was appointed Bishop of New York. When he was 
about to leave Philadelphia to take his new office and settle in a new home, he had 
many invitations to spend his last evening in the city with prominent people ; but 
refusing- them all, he chose instead to pass it with a humble old friend whom he 
had first known when they were both day-laborers. Thus, in pure friendship, he 
quietly spent his last hours before coming to New York to receive in St. Patrick's 
Cathedral the g-reat and solemn honor of being consecrated a Bishop of the Church 
of Rome, over the most important State in the Union. 

After twelve years of earnest, able work in the duties of this office, the Bishop 
rose to a still higher place of honor, and became Archbishop of New York. He 
.now grew to be more widely known to the nation than ever before. During the 
War of the Kebellion he was strongly in favor of the Union, and from the time the 



306 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

conflict beg-aii he Avas in constant? correspondence with Secretarj^ Seward, and ex- 
changed a number of letters with the President on matters connected with the w^ar.. 
At this time he even fulfilled some public duties, g-oing' to Europe for the Govern- 
ment on a special mission, for the piu-pose of streng-theniug- France and England 
in their friendly attitude to the United States. 

John Joseph Hughes was born at Annalog-han, Ireland, on June 24, 1797. He 
died in New York City, January 5, 18C4. 

During- the Revolutionary^ War a baby came into the Channing family at 
Newport, Rhode Island, that grew up to be one of the most noble and influential 
men in American history. He was named for his uncle, William EUery, one of the 
patriots who signed the Declaration of Independence ; and both his parents were 
people of high principles, pure character, and able minds. All these good quali- 
ties their son inherited, and from his babyhood William Ellery Channing 
showed a lovel}", gentle, generous character, as well as extraordinary intellect. 
He was also ver3^ beautiful, with a charm of personal attractiveness that he kept 
through life. He was not very tall, but had a muscular and graceful figure, a 
handsome head, and bright and expressive eyes. His loving nature seemed to feel. 
for everj'thing as well as everybody. At the age when most boys like to tease cats 
and set dogs on each other, the little Channing lad was full of kindness to animals ;. 
he could not bear to see anything suffer, and wanted to make the birds, the dogs,, 
the cats, as w-ell as the people about him, as happy as he could. He was so orderly 
and studious at school that his teachers used to wish all their pupils were like- 
him. 

When he was fifteen years old he was sent to Harvard College. Here it was 
said that, altogether, he was the best scholar in his class, although the class was 
a particulai'ly brilliant one. Many of its members afterward came to be among 
the most important and famous men of their time. Harvard points with pride to 
her list of graduates in 1798, for beside the name of Channing and several others 
almost as well known throughout the country, were those of Judge Story, the 
great jur-ist, and Dr. Tuckerman, the Unitarian divine, who helped to found tlie 
American Seamen's Friend Society. 

There was a great deal of interest kept up among the members of this famous, 
class, and the friendship between some of its great members lasted as long as 
they lived. Dr. Channing said that among all the able young men in it. Story 
took the lead, but the opinion of the great Judge was that Channing was its best 
scholar. In certain things there is no doubt that he was superior to all the others.. 
He was the best orator and could translate Latin into more graceful, poetical Eng- 
lish than any of them. He took great pains to learn to use the English language 



WilUaui EUerij Chaiining. 307 

well, and his writings finalh' came to have a most beautiful style. They have a 
lasting- value, too, and will be read with admiration for manj' years to come. He 
did not learn this art without g'iving- a g-reat deal of study and effort to it. He 
said himself that when he first begun to w^rite essays at college he could not say 
what he wanted to, and that his sentences were awkward and hard to understand. 
But he overcame all that and rose to an eminent place among- the best authors in 
the Eng-lish lang-uag-e. His style was not only cleai- and forcible, but elegant and 
sometimes even lofty and stirring in its eloquence. An able English critic said 
he was unquestionably the finest wi/iter of his age. In his works are some of the 
richest poetry and most beautiful of thoughts, clothed in language which few 
writers have equaled. Yet his writings are all as remarkable for their simplicity 
as for the poetical grace that is noticed even in his plainest prose. Many of his 
essays are upon books and authors, for he took a great deal of interest in literary 
subjects. His favoi'ite poets were Shakespeare and Wordsworth. The sweet 
verses of the great Lake Poet were not then as well known or as nuich admired as 
they are now, but from his first acquaintance with him Channing tliought him 
one of the greatest poets in the English language. 

After leaving college Mr. Channing was tutor in a Virginia family for awhile, 
and then, returning to the North, he became Regent of Harvard, at the same time 
studying theology. He said once that he thought religion was the only treasure 
worth pursuing, and that the man who spreads it among people was moi-e useful 
than the greatest sage and patriot who adorned the page of history. But he 
could not quite make up his mind about becoming a minister himself. Finally, 
seeing that there Avere around him so many people who did not believe in God, he 
resolved to look more closely into the Christian religion than he had ever done be- 
fore. It was in this way that he came to understand its truth and beauty, and at 
last to be filled with the idea that he ought to devote his life to showing it forth to 
others. 

Before this he had spent a good deal of time in the company of his uncle, Henry 
Channing, who was a minister, and who was very gentle and liberal, and felt that 
other people who were honestly seeking the truth had as good a right to their 
views as he had to his. This spirit was very like Mr. Channing's own feeling, and 
being with his uncle must have made him still more tolerant. Through all his 
ministry he was noted for this sweet, Christian spii'it. 

After he was licensed to preach, he became pastor of the Federal Street Uni- 
tarian Society. For twenty years he fulfilled the duties and carried the cares of 
this large church wnthout an assistant. But in 18'32 — when the famous preacher 
was thirty-two years old — his congregation had grown so large and his duties 
so heavy that his people — who loved him as a father — deteimined to employ 



308 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

another minister to help him. This g'ave Dr, Channing- an opportunity to visit 
Europe. 

Two years before this. Harvard University had conferred on him the title of 
Doctor of Divinity, for he was now a very profound and learned man. His fame 
extended throughout this and several other countries. His writings and the ac- 
counts of his preaching had inade for him many friends, and some of the greatest 
authors and statesmen in Europe were g"lad of a chance to meet him and talk 
"with him. He saw Coleridge and Wordsworth, the poets, and was made a wel- 
come guest in England, France, Switzei-land, and Italy. 

After about a year's stay, he came back, as devoted to his church as ever and 
better able to do good to his people than before. His pastorate with them lasted for 
neai'lv twenty years longer — years full of g'ood work and honorable public service. 

While he labored hardest to spi'ead and teach the Christian religion, there was 
scarcely any g-ood work of public reform in which he was not a helper. Temper- 
ance, peace, and anti-slavery were causes that he felt deepl}^ interested in ; and no 
man of his time— or perhaps no man at an^'^ time — has done more than he to 
increase the feeling of g-ood-will among our people, and to keep down narrowness 
and bigotry. He was very much opposed to debates for the sake of showing off 
opinions or of trying to talk people into his own beliefs. He wanted, above almost 
anything else, to have his liearers be true to their own thoughts and convictions, 
not to blindly adopt his. 

He was one of the most eloquent speakers we have ever had, and strangers in 
Boston crowded to hear him ; while his regidar congreg-ation gre\v larg-er and 
larger. His was such a g-entle, generous nature that he made very few enemies 
even among the people whose actions he condemned. The poet Coleridge put into 
words the thoughts of many when he said that Channing had the love of wisdom 
and the wisdom of love. Everything he ever wrote or said showed the desire to 
make people better and happier. 

He was never very strong, and in the later years of his life suffered much from 
ill-health. While taking a journey in the hope of getting stronger, he g-rew very 
ill at Bennington, Vermont. When he found that he was so sick that he might 
die there, he said : " I should wish, if it is the will of Providence, to be able to re- 
turn home to die there." Then after a moment he added, " But it will all be well 
— it is all well." In his last hours of consciousness he asked that the Bible might 
be read to him, and the Sermon on the Mount was what he wanted to hear ; when 
the reader came to the Lord's Prayer, he said it coinforted him to hear it. These 
words were his last. 

Dr. Channing was born at Newport, Rhode Island, on the 7tli of April, 1780. 
He died at Bennington, Vermont, on the 2d of October, 1842. 



Jjyman Beecher. 309 

After Dr. Channing- had been preaching- m Boston for about twenty-three years, 
a celebrated Cong-regationahst clergyman went up from Litchfield, Connecticut, 
and took charge of the Hanover Street Church. He had been called there to 
uphold the old orthodox faith, based upon belief in the Trinity, against the 
power of the Unitarians, who do not believe in the Trinity and had at that 
time grown to be a very large bod}' in Boston, exerting a strong influence far 
beyond the city. This clergymen was Lyman Beecher. He was an earnest 
and able preacher, with a very clear and logical waj' of presenting the truth, 
which to him was the Cong-reg'ationalists' form of the Christian religion. He 
was five years older than Dr. Channing, and a man very much honored. 

During the greater part of this century he and his children have been among- 
the most famous and influential men and women in America. Their intellect 
and their benevolence have been at the service of the g-reatest reforms of the age. 

Lyman Beecher came into this world only to go out immediately, it was 
thought. When the life of his sick mother passed away, it seemed as if her new- 
born baby would soon follow her ; he was so weak and feeble that he seemed 
almost dead, anyway, and in the g-reater care about his mother, he was pretty 
nearly forgotten. But he lived for more than three score and ten years — and the 
world has been the better for it. 

The little motherless baby was brought up by an uncle and aunt, though he 
lived near his father's home and passed a good deal of his time with him. His 
uncle was a farmer, and Lyman was taught to help about the place, in-doors and 
out; but he never was very g-ood help. He tried to do his best, but he would fall 
to thinking- so deeply while he was plowing- that he would forg-et altogether 
what he was about, till his uncle would come up and rouse him b^' putting- the 
plow back in the furrow and giving- his nephew a shake to waken him from his 
da^'-dreams. Then sometimes when he was not plowing-, he would suppose that 
he was and, as he walked along-, thinking- deeply about other thing-s, he would 
call out " Whoa I " "Haw ! " to his imaginary oxen. 

Finally, after things of this kind had happened again and again, his uncle made 
up his mind that " the boy was never meant for a farmer," and that the only way he 
could succeed would be to put him at something where what he called " book knowl- 
edge " would be useful, for Lyman was even then fond of books— fonder of them 
than of oxen and plows. So he asked him if he would like to g-o to college. Lyman 
said " yes ; " and when he was eighteen years old he was sent to Yale College. 

Soon after he entered it, Thnothy Dwight became President of Yale, and he had 
a great influence over the young student. Dr. Beecher always felt that his success 
was due to the training and inspiration he got from Dr. Dwight. 

He was not a brilliant scholar at college. He could not learn mathematics 



310 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

easily, or indeed after he A\'eiit beyond arithmetic liardl\- at all ; and as mathemat- 
ics were the test of scliolarsliip in the college, his standing- was very low. When 
he graduated he received no honors from the faculty, but his classmates had found 
out that, though he was no mathematician, he could talk in such a way that people 
listened to him with delig-ht, and they chose him to deliver the valedictory address 
on Presentation day. 

When he had entered college he was undecided as to whether he would be a 
lawyer or a ministei-, but during- his course he became more than ever devoted to 
the cause of relig-ion and determined to preach the Gospel. 

His first church was at East Hampton, Long- Island. He stayed there twelve 
years, and although it was a small place, far away from any important city, he 
made in it a reputation. 

When he was about thirty-five years old he took charge of a larger churcli in 
Litchfield, Connecticut. There his fame as a preacher and writer increased, but 
it was not till sixteen years later that he moved to Boston and entered upon the 
most important, or at least most noted work of his life. 

The six years that he spent here were devoted to showing that the Unitarians 
were wrong in their doctrines and to persuading people to become or j-emain 
" orthodox" — that is, within the old Congregationalist Church. Sometimes in his 
arguments he was too heated, and said more against the people who differed from 
him than was best or right, but on the whole he was generous and charitable. 

When the Lane Theological Seminary was established in the West he was 
asked to take charge of it; and, undertaking at the same time to become pastor 
of the Second Presbyterian Church of Cincinnati, he moved to Ohio, in 1832. For 
ten years he was the honored head and the able teacher of theology in this great 
school, whose name will forever be connected with some of the most zealous 
refoi-raers — especially Abolitionists — and most eloquent ministers in the orthodox 
church of America. 

Dr. Beecher was one of the verj^ first movers in the great temperance reform. 
In his early ministry -Christians and even ministers of the Gospel drank a great 
deal of liquor. Dr. Beecher, seeing how much harm came out of the custom, 
did a great deal to change people's minds about it, and make a public sentiment 
against it. His sermons on temperance have been printed and read far and wide, 
over the world ; besides the vast numbers of copies of them that have been scat- 
tered in this country, they have been translated into several foreign languages. 

His last seven years were spent entirely out of public life, in a quiet little home 
circle in Brooklyn, New York, near his famous son, Henry Ward Beecher. 

Lyman Beecher was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, October 12, 1775. He died 
in Brooklyn. New York, January 10, 1863. 



Henry Ward Beecher. 



311 



For the last fifty years Henry Ward Beecher lias probably been the most 
widely known of all American clerg-ymen. 

He was born during- onr second war with Eng-land, while his father was preach- 
ing* the Gospel in Litchfield ; so his life beg"an almost with this century, and, 
g-rowing- with his countrj^ he has been prominently connected with almost all the 




Henry Ward Beecher. 

great national events of his time, especially all g-reat reforms. He was one of the 
young-est children of a larg-e family, and was not thoug-ht to be as brig-ht or as 
g-ifted as his brothers and sisters. He had a poor memory and was so shy and 
bashful that for a long- time he was called particularly dull. Althoug-h he has long- 
been one of the most popular preachers and lecturers of this country, when he was 
a boy he had a very indistinct way of speaking- in addition to his other drawbacks. 
His parents never thought that there was anything- g-reat in him to reward them 



312 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

for helping him to overcome his defects, but they were patient with what they 
supposed was his stupidity, because he was g-ood and obedient. 

In Litchfield, as in all small New England towns at tliat time, a boy had very 
few temptations to get into mischief ; the families were mostly of God-fearing^ 
orderly citizens, among whom a boy could hardly find a bad companion. Every- 
body Henry Ward Beecher had anything to do with was religious ; he heard 
more talk about religious matters than almost anything else, and saw that relig- 
ious principles governed his parents in all things, great and small. 

The family moved to Boston when he was twelve 3'ears old, and, soon after 
this, he became discouraged at his getting on so poorly at school, and made up 
his mind that he would like to go to sea and become a sailor. His father, finding this, 
out, talked to him about it. He asked him if he thought he would always be willing 
to remain a connnon sailor. The boy said no, he wanted to be a commodore. Then 
his father showed him that to become a commodore he would need to understand 
a great deal about mathematics and navigation. But he offered to send him to a 
school where he could learn these things, and told him that when he knew enough 
to be able to take a good position on board a ship that he could probably get him 
one. So, Henry was sent back to school with his mind made up to study harder 
than he had ever done before. It was a school in the country, which he liked 
much better than being in Boston, because he always loved flowers and green 
fields and woods. Here he also had the good fortune to come under the charge of 
one good elocution teacher, who taught him how to use and to cultivate his voice, 
and trained him to speaking w^ell in public. 

At the close of his first year at this school there was a revival of religion in 
the place, and young Beecher became a thorough, earnest Christian. He joined 
his father's church when he went home, and from that time the idea of going to 
sea was given up ; in its place, he began to hope that he might sometime be a 
minister like his father. 

A few years more of hard study so far conquered his natural slowness, that 
he was a fair scholar for his years. He even prepared himself for Amherst Col- 
lege, arid got through the four years' course by the time he was twenty-one. He 
did not care much about Greek and Latin, but put most of his energies into study- 
ing oratory and rhetoric, for he had by this time made up his mind that he was 
more interested in what to say and how to say it than in learning and scholarship 
for their own sakes. He read carefully the works of the great English writers, 
Milton, Bacon, Shakespeare, and others from w^liich he could learn how best to use 
the English language. 

Even in college he was a reformer, getting other students to join him in put- 
ting down disorderliness, gambling, drinkuig, and all other vices. He had a good 



Henry Wm^d Beecher. 313 

deal of success in this, as he was a popular student ; for while he was very re- 
ligious, he was also full of fun and merriment. It is said that he was so lively 
and g-ay that those about him who thought that Christians ought always to be 
very solemn, never understood how really devout he was. 

From Amherst he went to Lane Theological Seminary in Cincinnati, Ohio. 
Here he met and became the intimate friend of Professor C. E. Stowe, who was 
very learned in the Bible and a fine scholar, and who gave the young theological 
student some most valuable help in his studies. They afterwards became brothers- 
in-law, through Professor Stowe's marriage with Mr. Beecher's famous sister,, 
Harriet, who wrote " Uncle Tom's Cabin " and many other populai' books. 

As soon as Mr. Beecher's theological course was finished, he married and took 
charge of a small church in Lawrenceburg, a little town near Cincinnati. Here 
he not onl3^ preached, but did most of the work of the church, even to linging the 
bell, making the fires, and taking care of the church lamps. 

He was soon called from there to Indianapolis, where he labored for eight years. 
It was in this second place that he began to make his reputation as a preacher. 

Long before he was a minister he had come to see the wrong and cruelty of the 
negro slavery in the Southern States, and not long after he settled in Indianapolis 
he made a great sensation by preaching- against it. At that time even Northern 
people did not condemn slavery, and for many years there was scarcely anything 
that would make a person more unpopular than to take up the cause of the ne- 
groes. Mr. Beecher knew this perfectly, but as long as he felt it was right to use 
his influence toward gaining their rights for them, he w^as going to do so, though 
it was the cause of many people hating him and trying to do him injury. 

After eight j^ears in Indianapolis, he received an important call to come East, 
It was a request that he would take charge of a new little church in Brooklyn^ 
New York. He loved the West, and did not want to leave his church there, but 
the health of his family w^as not good, and he felt that he must make a change ; 
so he accepted the call, and moving to Brooklyn in 1847, became pastor of Plym- 
outh Church, where he remained till his death, a period of about forty ^^ears. 

Altogether this is one of the most remarkable pastorates in all the church his- 
tory of America ; for, beside being one of the most popular and influential men of 
his age, Mr. Beecher's zeal and industry and untiring labors for the good of his 
own people, his country, and all mankind has been more powerful and far-reach- 
ing than the labors of almost any other man in America. There are many people 
who question the real greatness of his work, but no one doubts the extent of it or 
the famous preacher's sincere earnestness and devotion of his purpose. 

His opinions and beliefs have long been considered as not according to the 
doctrines of the Congregationalist Church. He was often condemned for this — 



^14 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

which is called being- unorthodox — by many people of strict religious views. 
But he acted and spoke according to what was to him the rig-ht way, whether 
differing- from the principles laid down by any sect or not. Moreover, like grand 
old Dr. Clumning, he was willing to treat the honest belief of any other person as 
respectfully as he did his own. 

Tlie Council that ordained him pastor over Plymouth Church wished that he 
cared more for what they called doctrine ; but as he believed in Clirist and in mak- 
ing- people Christians, they encouraged him to go on preaching in his own way. 
His way was a very wonderful one, so that his little church was soon overflowing 
every Sunday with people \\\\o wanted to hear him. 

He had a kindly, pleasant face, a fine, manly figure, with a bearing stately 
and dignified. His voice was rich and powerful, and he spoke so simply and nat- 
urally that ignorant people and little children understood every word he said as 
clearly as the best educated person in his pews. 

During- the years before the Civil War he used his wonderful oratory both in 
lecturing- and preaching ag-ainst slavery with g-reat effect ; his voice was contin- 
ually being raised ag-ainst intemperance, crime, and all sorts of evil, while the 
oppressed and suffering- always found him their friend. He had his enemies, 
but his church people alwaj^s loved him and were g-rateful to him for the good he 
did them and the nation. All over the world there are many who, though 
they knew him only throug-h his deeds and writings, looked upon him with the 
g-reatest respect, and used to read his printed sermons every week. 

Henry Ward Beecher was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, Januar^^ 24, 1813. 
He died in Brooklyn, New York, March 8, 1887. 



PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS. 



THE first disting'uished physician in America was Zabdiel Boylstoii, who 
lived in New England in the old Puritan times when Cotton Mather was in 
his prime. Medicine was but little understood then, even by the most learned, 
and to plain people it was a deep and mysterious secret. Moreover, men and 
women were so stubbornly' set in their own way of thinking- and so suspicious 
of anything- they were not accustomed to that a doctoi' who made use of any 
new discoveries in his practice often did so at the risk of his life. 

This is why the name of Zabdiel Boylston is g-reat in American history. In 
the face of the bitterest opposition, he succeeded in introducing- here the practice 
of inoculation, to prevent people from taking- small-pox. This remedy is called 
inoculation because a piece of matter taken from a small-pox pimple after the 
patient has had the disease for eight days, and insei'ted — or inoculated — under 
the skin of a well person, will prevent him from taking- the fever b,y giving- him a 
very light and usually harmless touch of it, which soon passes off and leaves him 
so that even if he is exposed he will not take the reg-ular painful and offensive 
fever from which so many people die. This practice, in an improved way, discov- 
ered by Dr. Edward Jenner, of Eng-land, is very common now, and a g-reat man}^ 
boys and girls know themselves what it is to be vaccinated. But one hundred 
and fifty years ag-o it was an almost unheard-of thing-, believed b^^ most of the 
superstitious people of New England to be connected with evil of some kind. 

Dr. Boylston first heard of inoculation from the clergyman, Dr. Cotton Mather, 
who, being- a great reader, had somewhere seen an account of inoculation being- 
.successfully practiced at Smyrna, in Turkey' in Asia. When the small-pox broke 
out with great violence in Boston he told the physicians how it had been checked in 
the East. In those days — as in these, too, sometimes — physicians were ver3" 
jealous of their profession, and would neither follow the sugg-estions of an^^ out- 
sider nor give to him any of their knowledge of the healing- art. But Dr. Boylston 
was an exception. He had a simple, earnest nature, and was more interested in 



31G One Hmidred Famous Americans. 

curing- his patients than in appearing important himself. So, he began to think 
over what Dr. Mather had said, and lost no time in looking into the merits of in- 
oculation. He discovered that there must be a great deal of virtue in it, and in 
1721 he inoculated his little six-year-old son and two servants. In the same year, 
Lady Mary Montague, whose son had been saved from having small-pox by inoc- 
ulation in Constantinople, began to try it as an experiment upon some convicts in 
England. But Dr. Boylston thought he was working alone, for he knew nothing 
of the work of the celebrated Englishwoman. 

His experiments were successful ; the patients soon got well of the slight sick- 
ness caused by the inoculation, and yet they were as much secured against having 
the small-pox as if they had already had it in the usual way, for this is a disease 
people very rarely have a second time. Out of bigotry and prejudice, the other 
Boston ph.>'sicians became very bitter against Dr. Boylston, condenniing his dis- 
covery and doing all they could to oppose him. They so used their influence that 
in the course of the next month they induced the Selectmen of Boston to forbid 
the practice of inoculation. By this time it had been talked about a good deal. 
Six of the clergymen of the city made up their minds that it was a valuable dis- 
covery, and that it w^ould save many lives, so they did all they could to change the 
minds of the Selectmen, and soon Dr. Boylston was allowed to go on inocu- 
lating people. Within a year from this time he inoculated more than two hundred 
and forty people. A very few other physicians followed in his footsteps. The 
practice proved very successful. There are records of the different cases, showing 
that only about one-seventh as many people died of the inoculation as died of small- 
pox taken in the usual way. But this did not in the least alter the opinions of 
the physicians w^ho had opposed the practice before they knew anything about it. 
They still went on fighting it more violently than ever. They said so much about 
it that ignorant people came to think that Dr. Boylston must be a wicked-hearted 
man, who wanted to do something very dreadful to everybody. At last they 
became so excited against him that it was unsafe for him to go out after dark. 
He was threatened with hanging, and people who let him inoculate them were 
insulted in the streets. But Dr. Mather and other intelligent people supported 
him, and so he kept on saving lives. 

In 1TT6 ten years after this heroic old physician's death — a better method of in- 
oculation, called vaccination, was discovered in England by Dr. Jenner : and that 
proved beyond a doubt the value of the practice. ^ 

For many generations all the great scientists and physicians in the world have 
approved the method for which Dr. Boylston was so persecuted, and honor his 
memory for the help he gave to his fellow-creatures, and the wisdom and courage 
he showed when so many influential men of his own profession wei'e doing all in 



Benjamin Rush. 317 

their power to overcome his efforts. Happily all his life was not passed in strife 
:and opposition. Almost from the first he received the credit abroad that his own 
country-men withheld, and when he went to England, about four years after 
he began to inoculate, he was warmly welcomed and was made a member of the 
Royal Medical Society. When he came home much prejudice against him had died 
out, and it was generally acknowledged that he was the first physician in America. 




Benjamin Rush. 

When he became too old and infirm to practice, he read and wrote on literary 
^nd scientific sul)jects and took an interest in farming. 

Dr. Boylston was born in 1680, at Brookline, Massachusetts, where he died 
March 1, i:G6. 

The name of Benjaniiii Rush is famous among us for more than one great 
reason. Beside being a remarkable physician, lie was a patriot, an author, and 
a polished Christian gentleman. He was born near the middle of the last century, 



318 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

and was in the prime of his early manhood when the Revohitionary War began. 
His earnestness and zeal were all for the cause of the Colonies, and he lent a strong- 
hand to help rouse the people to feeling- the need of that war. He was, a member 
of the Continental Congress when the Declaration of Independence was drawn up, 
and fixed his name upon it with the other signers. 

Dr. Rush's memory is more closely connected with Philadelphia than with any 
other city. Ht^ was born near it and spent most of his useful life in it. Losing 
his fathei- wlu^n he was six yeai'S old, he was but a little boy when he went to 
live with his mother's brother, Dr. Finley, who was at the head of an academy 
in Maryland. 

His ancestors for generations had been honorable men who held positions of 
trust and respect in the vai'ious places where they lived, and his mother spared 
herself nothing to make him worthy of his honorable family. It was to her, he 
felt, that he owed his success in life; for she worked hard and sacrificed much to 
obtain the money for his education. When he was fourteen, thanks to his uncle's 
good teaching, he was able to enter the junior class at Princeton College, where 
Mrs. Rush sent him. He was a very good speaker and debater, and man\^ of his 
friends thought, as he was so eloquent, he ought to be a lawyer. But he decided to 
be a doctor of medicine, and began studying with the most eminent physicians in 
Philadelphia, soon after he graduated — at the earty age of fifteen. These studies 
he kept up for six years, applying himself so diligently that during the w^hole time 
he only lost two days. After this he went to the medical schools of Edinburgh, 
where his pleasant disposition, bright mind, and industrious habits made him a 
favorite with his teachers. When his old friends among the authorities at Prince- 
ton where trying to engage Dr. Witherspoon to come to America to become pres- 
ident of their college, they chose this young- student to negotiate with the famous 
scholar for them; and it was finally through his efforts that the matter was 
settled and Dr. Witherspoon came. They became intimate friends during this 
time, and kept up the acquaintance as long as they lived. 

Before he returned to America, young Dr. Rush went to London to attend 
medical lectures, and there he met Dr. Benjamin Franklin, who was very kind to 
him. He advised him to finish his studies among the great French ph3^sicians, 
and when he found that he had not the money to do so, he offered to lend it to 
him. The young man hesitated, but Dr. Franklin urged it upon him, and finally 
he accepted it and went to Paris. From there he came home and began practic- 
ing in Philadelphia. His skill and his kindness, both of which he bestov/ed alike 
upon all classes of people, rich or poor, were so great that he soon had a very 
large practice, and was highly respected. It was only the next year after his re- 
turn that he was appointed Professor of Chemistry in the new Medical College of 



Samuel Bard. 3151 

Philadelphia. This was the first colleg-e for the education of physicians ever 
opened in this country, and for a long- time this and one soon afterwards estah- 
lislied in New York by Dr. Bard, were the only medical schools in America. 

From the time that Dr. Rush came back to his native country, he was full of 
sympathy with the Colonists in their strug'gleag-ainst the injustices of the English 
king", and he wrote and talked against Americans submitting- to these wrongs. 

The year before the war began he was offered a seat in the Continental Con- 
gress, but he declined it. Next year, though, when the need of patriotic dele- 
g-ates was greater, he became a member, and was there to sign his name to the 
Declaration of Independence. The following- year Cong-ress appointed him physi- 
cian-general to the middle department of the army ; like Washington, he would 
receive no pay for his services, and when the war was over he again took up his 
work in the medical college, becoming- more important tliere than ever before. 
His lectures were so beautifully^ delivered that they were as entei-taiiiing as they 
were instructive, and students flocked from all parts of the country to hear liim. 
He charmed them as a man as well as a teacher, as he did almost every one who 
knew him. He was about the middle heig-ht, very erect, slender, with handsome 
aquiline features, and beautiful clear blue eyes, and a manner of the g-reatest 
g-entleness and polish. 

When, in 1793, the yellow fever broke out in Philadelphia, Di-. Rush endeared 
himself to his fellow-citizens even more than ever before by his courage and kind- 
ness. He stayed and attended upon the sick when many other physicians left the 
city. He and his pupils had the happiness of being- more successful than any onfe 
else there in fighting- this dreadful disease. Up to the last days of his life, Di*. 
Rush was active in his profession and full of interest in all things concerning- the 
welfare of his country. He died in the fullest trust in the Chi'istian religion, which 
he had always faithfully followed. 

Benjamin Rush was born in Byberi-y, Pennsylvania, December 24, 1745. He 
died in Philadelphia, April 19, 1813. 

The first medical college in New York City, and the first one in fhis country 
with a full number of teachers — that is, a complete faculty — was founded through 
the efforts of Samuel Bard. He lived from about the middle of the last cen- 
tury almost through the first quarter of this. When he was four years old, his 
father, who was a Philadelphia phj'sician, moved to New York, and it was in this 
city that Samuel Bard built up his great medical success. His father was an able 
man, an intimate friend of Benjamin Franklin, and with careful oversight his son 
grew up among- right-minded companions. 

When he was about foiu'teen he made a long visit at the house of Cadwallader 



320 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Coklen, the Lieutenant-Governor of the province. It was before New York was a 
State. His host's daughter was a young- lady very fond of botany-, and of so much 
knowledge in that study that she was in correspondence with the scientific men in 
Europe about American plants and flowers. Becoming fiiendly with her young 
guest, she soon made him enthusiastically interested in her favorite stud^-. He not 
only learned a great deal while with her, but when his visit ended he carried awaj'- 
with him a taste for botanical study that he kept all his life. At fifteen he entered 
Columbia College, where he was nevei- ver\' particularly noted, although he stood 
fairly well in his classes. After he graduated he made up his mind to become a 
physician. This pleased his father, who sent him when he was nineteen to studj' 
at Edinburgh. This famous city was then thought to have the finest medical 
dollege in Great Britain and one of the best in Europe. 

At this time England and France were at war, and the English vessel that 
young Bard sailed in was captured hy the French, and taken to one of their ports. 
He was kept a prisoner in France for four months, and might have been held 
longer but for Benjamin Franklin. He was then in London, and when he heard 
of the plight his felloAv-countryman was in, he set to work at once to get him 
released. 

As old Dr. Bard was not a rich man, and had to stint himself to pay for his 
son's advantages, when Samuel wrote to his father after his release, he gave him 
an account of the money he had, and what he had spent. This letter is still pre- 
served, and is most interesting for its quaintness and dutiful spirit as well as for 
its age and interest to all who know anything about the honored author of it. 
He says that his orvij extravagance in France was buying a flute to amuse him- 
self with during the long four months in prison ; and he does not seem to have felt 
at all sure that he was right to do even this. 

During all his life, Dr. Bard took a great deal of interest in every branch of 
knowledge. Besides his love for medicine and all that belonged to the progress 
of his profession, he was fond of painting-, literatui-e, and science for their own 
sakes. Wliile in Edinburgh he obtained the medal that was given once a' year by 
Professor Hope for the best collection of plants. 

After an absence of five years he came back to America with an excellent edu- 
cation and every promise of becoming a leading physician. He married his cousin, 
who had come to live at his home during his sta}'- abroad, and whom he had never 
before seen. Then he went into partnership with his father and, saving only 
barely enough money to live on, gave him all he made till all the debts which had 
b(>en contracted to pay for the Edinburgh education had been paid — for it had been 
necessary to borrow considerable money before the young doctor's studies abroad 
were completed. 



Philijj Syng Physick. 321 

Meanwhile he began to cany out the great desire of his life, which was to 
-establish a School of Medicine in New York. He had begun to think about it 
while he was himself a student in Scotland, and as soon as he returned he began 
working to bring it about. He was successful, and in four years after he entered 
his i^rofession he had not onh' founded the Medical School, which was united to 
King's College (now Columbia), but had it in such good working order that phy- 
sicians were graduated from it. It kept on steadLl^• growmg for about five years 
after that, but when the Revolutionary War broke out all its arrangements 
were disturbed. As Dr. Bard was on the side of the king and not of the patriots, 




Philip Syng Physick. 



in the first of the trouble he took his family to his father's house, out in Dutchess 
Comity, and during the whole of the war he only spent a part of his time practic- 
ing in the city. There was great sickness in liis own family at that time ; four 
of his children died of scarlatina, and after this his wife was very ill indeed. For 
a whole year he did scarcely anything beside taking care of her, until she grew 
well again. 

After the war closed, and he tried to take up his business again in New York, 
he found very little to do. Most of his friends now differed from him in politics, 
and were very cool to him. Finally, however, he found a few who were more gen- 
erous, and he slowly regained hii practice. He was Washington's family physi- 



332 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

cian while the President of the United States hved in New York, and after awhile 
he once more became an honored and useful citizen. He helped to found the first- 
dispensary in the city, and when the College of Physicians and Surg-eons was 
opened he was made president of it. 

He and his wife were so fond of each other that they often said they hoped they 
would die together. They had this wish. Dr. Bard only lived one day after his- 
wife had passed away, and the aged couple were buried in the same grave. 

Dr. Bard was born in Philadelphia, April 1, 1743. He died in New York City^ 
March 24, 1821. 

Because of his wisdom and his energy Philip Syng Pliysick has been 
called the Washington of his profession. His father was a man of note and good 
position both before and after the Revolutionary War, and he took unusual pains^ 
with the education of his son. He engaged a tutor, to whom he offered and paid 
double the price usually given to teachers, because he thought that the best way 
to get good work Avas to pay liberally for it, and it was not an ordinary man that 
he wanted to begin the education of his son. After awhile the tutor was exchanged 
for a school in Philadelphia. Philip boarded in the city then, for liis father's house 
was some miles out of town. He went home on Saturday night and stayed till 
Monday morning, and though he had to walk all of the long distance, it is said 
that he never went back late for school. So it was at an early age that he showed 
the strong and exact sense of duty which was so marked in him when he became 

a man. 

He graduated at the University of Pennsylvania when he was eighteen years 
old, and at once began to study medicine. He did not choose this life for himself. 
At that time he did not care for the profession in which he afterwards became 
famous, but as his father wanted him to become a physician, he agreed to do his 
best to please him. The first time he saw a limb taken off he nearly fainted and 
had to be taken out of the hospital. Yet he saw^ no reason why he should not keep 
faithfully on, so he studied hard and made the most of every chance to fit himself 
thoroughly for his profession. Once, when his teacher spoke to him of Collins's 
" First Lines of the Practice of Physic " as a book he ought to study very care- 
fully, the young student committed the whole book to memory, word for word, 
from beginning to end. He attended Dr. Rush's lectures among others in Phila- 
delphia, and when he had finished the course and Avas ready to graduate, he felt 
that he was not yet prepared to begin the actual practice of medicine, so he 
refused to take his degree when it was offered him, but went to London to continue 
his studies under the great Englisli surgeon, John Hunter. 

His new teacher was much pleased with him, and obtained for him, before 



Samuel Latham Mitchell. 323 

long-, the position of house surgeon to St. George's Hospital. Later, when Dr. 
Physick was preparing- to return to America, Dr. Hunter tried ver^- hard to per- 
suade him to remain in England. But after sta^'ing away for five years, he was 
still determined to make his home in America. One last year he spent in Edin- 
hurgh, and then with the degree of Doctor of Medicine from the greatest of medi- 
cal colleges, returned to Philadelphia in the fall of 1792. 

He had a hard time for three years after his return ; he was not a man who 
Avas liked by everybody ; he had a distant, dignified manner, and was intimate 
with no one. His ability was then ur.known, and during these first three j^ears hei 
got almost no practice, after all the faithfulness and care he had given to preparing 
himself to do his work well. Probably the disappointment of this time made him 
rather bitter in feeling, for he was known the rest of his life as a somewhat melan- 
choly and unsocial man. When the yellow fever broke out the year after his re- 
turn, he showed how good and brave he was in the face of dangei', but it was not 
till the second epidemic of this dreadful disease came, fi\'e years later, that his fel- 
low-townsmen began to generally appreciate him. He was so helpful and kind to 
the sick then, the poor as well as the rich, that after the terrible time was over he 
received a number of valuable pieces of silver plate from the managers of two hos- 
pitals as a testimony of their gratitude for his self-sacriflcing services. Soon after 
this he began to lecture on surgery, and for twenty-five j^ears from that time he 
stood at the head of that branch of his profession in Philadelphia, and it was be- 
lieved that there was not a better surgeon than he in this country. 

He was a peculiarly clear and simple lecturer, so that the dullest students 
could understand him ; in the lecture-room, as in all other places, his manner was 
very dignified. He was tall, thin, and boyish looking, held himself verj^ erect, 
wore his hair in queue, and spoke in slow and measured tones with his patients. 
He was always courteous and he could be very sympathetic, but he could also 
be stern, and often refused to treat people who did not mind his directions and 
take their medicine regularly. When his patients disobeyed him he left them to 
get well as best they could. 

He received many honors in this country and from foreign societies. Except- 
ing his lectures, he wrote but little ; he led too busy a life to become an author. 

Doctor Physick was born July 7, 1708, in Philadelphia, where he also died, De- 
cember 15y 1837. 

Samuel L/atliain Mitchell, one of the great physicians and naturalists of 
the early days of this republic, bi-ought honor upon his country in many ways. 
He was born into a Quaker family of Long Island, when this country was in the 
midst of the troubles that finally led to the Revolutionar}" War. His uncle. Dr. 



334 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Samuel Latham — for whom he was named — was always very fond of him ; even 
when he w^as a little boy he thoug-ht he would make a name in the world some- 
time, he was so bright and quick to notice thing's about him. So, the good doctor 
took charg-e of his nephew's education, often teaching- him himself. Under this 
good and loving influence it was very natural that, wiien Samuel became a young 
man, he decided to become a physician. He had an excellent start. At the age 
of sixteen he began studying medicine under the celebrated Dr. Samuel Bard, of 
New York, and after three years he started for Edinburgh. 

He left this great university with the highest honors, and so much fame as a 
student that it reached America before him. The most intellectual and learned 
men in New York received him with marked attentions when he came home, and 
after one year spent in stud^•ing the laws and constitution of his country, he began 
to practice medicine and to make those investigations in natural sciences which 
Avere his most valuable work. When he was twenty-six years old he was elected 
to the Legislature of the State of New York, and two years later was appointed 
professor in Columbia College. Even then, young as he was, he was considered 
the best naturalist and practical chemist in America. 

He soon began to publish the Medical Repository, and he remained its chief 
editor for sixteen year's. He founded and Avas for a long time president of the 
New York Lyceum of Natural History, and was interested in everything connected 
with the pjiblic good. All sorts of people came to him for advice and help, espe- 
cially when they had some new idea or invention that they wanted to bring before 
the world. He encouraged Robert Fulton in his plan for making a steamboat, 
when nearly everybody was laughing at him and saying such a thing could not be 
done ; and finally, when the steamboat was built, he went with Fulton on its first 
trip. He was also especially interested in agriculture, and in the midst of his 
busy labors in his own profession, he found time to WTite useful and helpful papers 
about farming and the best ways to cultivate different crops. 

The scientific work he did attracted great attention in Europe, and such men 
as Sir Humphre^y Davy and Baron Cuvier said they learned much from what he 
wrote. His elaborate account of the fish found in the waters about and near New 
York was one of the things that advanced his reputation in Europe, and in geology 
he led the way before all who have since done their great work in this country. 
For twenty years Dr. Mitchell was one of the physicians of the New York Hos- 
pital. His jwlitical expeinence in his early manhood in the New York Legislature 
was afterwai'ds followed by an acquaintance with Congress, where he represented 
New York City for six years without a break. After that he became a United 
States Senator. In the later years of his life he was Professor of Materia Medica 
and Botany in the New York College of Ph^'sicians and Surgeons, where he won 



Valentine Mott. 325 

the regard of all b^^ his kindly, friendly manners ; and the closest attention of the 
students to his lectures, for he was an unusuall}^ entertaining- speaker, even on 
deep and very " dry ' ' subjects. 

Samuel Latham Mitchell was born at North Hempstead, Long- Island, on 
August 20, 1764, and died in New York City on September 7, 1831. 

One of the boldest and most successful surgeons of any age or country was 
Valentine Mott. He was born on Long Island soon after the close of the 
Revolutionary War, and his life history has been closely connected with the prog- 
ress of surge r\' in New York City, where his father before him was a physician 
for many years. When Valentine was nineteen he entered Columbia College, and 
after graduating- there from a course in medicine, he followed the example of most 
of the ambitious students of his day, and went to London and Edinbiu'gh to finish 
his training. 

In the early part of this century it was a crime that the law punished bj' im- 
prisonment for any one to be found with the limb of a dead man ; people were so 
ignorant that they called dissection a fearful and a wicked practice, although it is 
the only way that a thorough knowledge of the human body can be obtained. 
Dr. Mott fully realized its importance. Knowing that no one could become a 
skillful surgeon without it, he risked life and good name to smuggle bodies into 
the hospital so that he and the other students might woi-k over them and learn 
how best to relieve the sufferings of the living. 

Nowadays dissection is a regular part of everj- medical student's preparation 
for his profession, and is so well understood as a great necessity that there is no 
need of its being done in secret. Much of this change of feeling- is due to Dr. 
Mott, who had the courage and zeal to push his way against difficulties, and the 
ability to prove by his own wonderful operations the value of knowing from actual 
sight the secrets of the human body. From the very first, he began to take 
great steps forward in the surgeon's art. He worked hard and faithfully : the 
new operations and discoveries of the eminent European doctors of his time Avere 
carefully studied, and before long some of them were undertaken by himself ; suc- 
cessful in these, he went on Avith new methods of his own, most of which have 
proved to be of everlasting benefit to mankind. 

He was also the first to introduce in this country what is called clinical in- 
struction—that is, giving lectures at the bedside of the patient or performing- 
operations before students and explaining Avhat is done to them. In this he 
opened another great avenue of instruction to medical students of America, where 
the profession is now becoming of importance before the whole world, while in Dr. 
Mott's 3'outh its standing was very low. 



326 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

At that time, if a man were aiming- to become a good surgeon, it was necessary 
foi- him to go abroad to study, for there were no opportunities for him to 
learn his art in this country. In London, whicli was one of the best places in the 
woi-ld for such study, and in Edinburgh, Dr. Mott Avorked so faithfully and suc- 
cesslullv that as soon as he returned to America he was asked to become Professor 
of Surgery in Columbia College. 

From that time on, throughout his long life, he w^as one of the best medical 
lecturers in New York. His students always found him entertaining as well as 
instructive, and while they respected him and admired him for the great learning 
and ability he possessed, they were also very fond of him as a man. He had a 
rare nature, made up of old-fashioned dignity combined with easy, kindly good 
liumor. Being of fine figure and bearing-, handsojne face, and extreme neatness 
in his dress, he was also a man whose looks were always pleasing. As a surgeon, 
he was both daring and cautious ; he would undertake bravely whatever seemed 
best to be done, but he was always anxious to do no cutting- that was not abso- 
lutely necessary. He performed most of his operations before it was discovered 
that ether and chloroform will deaden the senses. Then, when the patient had to 
endure terrible sullering under an operation, it was much more difficult for a 
surgeon to work than now ; but Dr. Mott was always quiet and self-possessed, 
and always treated his pupils or assistants with the same politeness that he 
showed on all ordinary occasions. Some of the great surgical operations that are 
now commonly made were first thought of and undertaken by him. A celebrated 
English surgeon said : " Dr. Valentine Mott has performed more of the great op- 
erations than any man living, or that ever did live." 

One of the most marked traits of his character was promptness. He was 
always on time. His students used to say that they could set their watches by 
Dr. Mott's bow before the class. 

Beside his long and honorable connection with the Medical School at Columbia 
College, which began when he was about thirty-five years old, he was one of the 
founders of Rutgers Medical Cofiege, at the university in New Brunswick, New 
Jersey, and was also a professor of two departments in the College of Physicians 
and Surgeons in New York Cit3^ 

During the Civil War Dr. Mott was ardently devoted to the Union, and 
served the Government in working for the good of the soldiers. His family 
thought that his death was hastened by the shock he suffered in hearing of Presi- 
dent Lincoln's assassination. 

Dr. Mott was born at Glen Cove, Long- Island, on August 20, 1785. He died in 
New York City, April 26, 1865. 



John Wakefield Francis. 327 

The life of John Wakefield Francis covered a period almost as long- as 
that of our nation. It began in the first year that Washing-ton was President, 
and only closed just before the beg-inning of the Civil War. His father was a 
German, and his mother was the daughter of a Swiss family. They lived in New 
York City, and beg-an to give their son a good education. The father died before 
John was g-rown, and, feeling it to be his duty to earn something- to support him- 
self and help his widowed mother, he bound himself out to a printer. But in a 
short time circumstances changed so that he could go on with his studies. For 
a time he was at school — with Washington Irving- — and afterwards he went to 
Columbia College, where he took the regular course and graduated. Meanwhile 
he had taken up medicine by himself, and when out of Columbia beg-an to attend 
the College of Physicians and Surg-eons, where he received the deg-ree of Doctor 
of Medicine, three years later. 

This was in the year 1812, and it was the first degree ever g-iven by that school. 
Young Francis had shown so much ability and industry while he was studying, 
that, as soon as he began to practice, the way opened to success. He was taken 
into partnership by a physician of g-ood standing and established position, and 
soon pro^'ed himself a g-reat man in his profession. When he was only twenty- 
four years old he was appointed to lecture at the College of Physicians and 
Surg-eons, and soon after became a professor there, when the medical department 
of Columbia was united with that college. 

He was always full of sympathy for young men trying- to g-et an education, 
and for some of the lectures that he delivered at the College of Physicians and 
Surg-eons he would take no fees, lest some students would have to miss them 
because of the expense. His devotion to his profession and sincere desire to ad- 
vance in it was unlimited. Five years after he graduated in medicine, and after 
he had filled these responsible positions as teacher, he went to Europe to push 
liis own studies still further. W^hen he retui-ned the Colleg-e of Physicians and 
Surgeons offered him a still more important professorship than he had held before, 
which he filled with ever-growing- ability and great popularity among faculty 
and students. When he was about forty years old, he g-ave up lecturing- and 
:school-work so as to be able to devote his time to treating the sick and to writ- 
ing. For two years he edited the New York Medical and Physical Journal. 

While Dr. Francis was deeply occupied by the great healing- art he was 
also a helper in many good works outside of his profession. Besides being a use- 
ful friend to the Woman's Hospital and the State asylum for drunkards, he was 
an active member of the New York Historical Society, was very much interested 
in the progress of the study of Natural History, and lent a strong hand to many 
other movements not nearly so closely connected with his profession. In his 



328 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

leisure pictures and reading- g-ave him a great deal of pleasure. Nearly all the 
literary and scientific institutions of New York have been benefited by his aid 
and interest. He was one of the founders of the Academy of Medicine, of which 
he became president about fifteen years before his death. 

He was a maker of books as well as a lover of them, and beside many valuable 
articles on medicine that came from his pen — appearing- in his own and other 
journals — he wrote several important books for the profession and a volume for 
other readers, on " Old New York ; or, Reminiscences of the Past Sixty Years." 

Dr. Francis was born November 17, 1789, in New York City, where he also died, 
February 8, 1861. 

Theodoric Komeyii Beck, who was marked by dilig-ence, intellect, and 
g-oodness as one of the most prominent American physicians, was also one of the 
g-reatest medical ^vriters of this century. It has been said by some one who knew 
him well that he never wasted a minute, and this must be true, else he never could 
have accomplished so much valuable Avi-iting while his daily life was taken up by 
teaching and lecturing. 

Dr. Beck was born in the early days of the Republic, when people were just 
g-etting- over the effects of the Revolutionary War, and were beginning to make 
money, to re-establish their schools and colleg-es, and to realize what a g-reat 
country this was going- to be. It was a time of great opportunities. Dr. Beck 
was -worthy of his age, and ditl much to advance his fellow-countrymen in a 
knowledg-e of agriculture, manufactures, and other useful arts and sciences, while 
he is best known as an able writer on medical jurisprudence. 

When he was very young", his mother was left a widow with four little sons, 
whom she resolved to educate at any sacrifice to herself. In after years, when 
they had all become men and were growing- famous in honorable positions, they said 
that they owed their success to her w^ork and her training and influence. Theo- 
doric, or Romeyn, as he was called, who became the most noted man of the family, 
first attended the public-school, and then went to Union College in his native place, 
Schenectady, New York. When he was sixteen years old he graduated there and 
went to study medicine, first in Albany and afterwards in New York. As soon as 
he was throug-h he went back to the State capital and beg-an to practice, and even 
before he was twentj'-one years old became a marked man in the city, both as a 
physician and a citizen. In a few years he was appointed principal of the Albany 
Academy, a^id he then gave up practicing- medicine, although he did not go out of 
the profession. He could not endure seeing- people suffer, as a practicing- doctor 
must, so he undertook another business for regidar work, and gave his leisure- 
from that to the theoretical side of mediciue. 



John Broadhead Beck. 325^ 

From that time to the close of his long-, busy life he devo-ted himself to teach- 
ing-, studying', and writing. He held many honorable positions, among which were 
the professorship in the Fairfield and the Albany Medical Colleg-es, and the pres- 
idency of New York State Medical Society. His large work on '"Medical Juris- 
prudence " is one of great importance. It attracted a good deal of attention in 
Europe as well as here, and was translated into many lang'uag-es. During- the 
last few years of his life he resigned from the Albany Medical College, and g-ave 
all his failing- strength to his writing-. In the scientific and literar3' mag-azines of 
that day he published many very valuable articles. 

His death was felt to be a public calamity. In this country and abroad he was 
mourned by the many learned societies of which he had been an honored and use- 
ful member. Those who knew him best g-rieved foi- the loss of a great and good 
man. 

Theodoric Romeyn Beck was born in Schenectady, New York, on August 11,^ 
1791 ; he died in Utica, New York, November 19, 1855. 

John Broadhead Beck, famous as a practicing- physician, was a younger 
brother of Dr. T. Romeyn Beck, and rose to almost an equal eminence. He was 
four years old when his father died, and he was soon sent to live Avith his uncle, 
who about this time moved to New York C-ity. This uncle became a prominent 
trustee of Columbia Colleg-e, and when his nephew was fifteen he was sent there to 
school. Young- Beck graduated four years latei' with tlie highest honors of his 
class. He then went to Europe and was for awhile much interested in the study 
of languages, especially in Hebrew. He became so learned in ancient tongues 
that he could easily read and study the Bible in the original — the Old Testament 
in Hebrew and the New Testament in Greek. 

Deciding to become a physician, after his return to America, he entei'ed the 
College of Phj'sicians and Sui-geons in New York, from which he graduated when 
he w^as twenty-three. The paper on '' Infanticide," which he read at the com- 
mencement, has ever since remained a standard authority on that subject, 
althoug-h it was written seventy-five years ago. After he had been successfully 
practicing for some time, he established in New York an important medical mag"- 
azine called the Medical and Physical Journal, and for seven years he was its 
chief editor. The next important step that the public saw Dr. Beck take was intO' 
the chairs of materia medica and botany before the students in the Colleg-e of Phy- 
sicians and Surgeons. His influence here was most valuable, and many of the 
best years of his life were spent in battling- for the college and its advancement in 
many ways. When, later, he was g-iven a position at the New York Hospital the 
whole profession was benefited ; for he wrote excellent papers about cases he had 



330 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

at the hospital. They were on subjects that no one else took up in the journals 
and which he could not have written without practical experience. 

He was interested in starting- the New York Academy of Medicine, and was a 
leader in all movements and societies intended to benefit his profession. 

For several years before his death, Dr. Beck's health was very poor, but in spite 
of pain he worked on for many months, his mind as clear and sound as ever, and 
his nature filled with the grace of the Christian religion, in which he fully believed. 

Dr. John B. Beck was born in Schenectady, New York, September 18, 1794. 
He died in Rhinebeck, New York, April 9, 1851. 

The greatest ethnologist of this country was Samviel George Morton, 

also celebrated as a physician and naturalist. An ethnologist is a person who has 
.studied about the races of men, and Dr. Morton's branch of this science was on the 
first people of America. 

He was a student from the time he was a little boy, and his father, who was an 
Ii-isli merchant in Philadelphia, wished him to become a business man like himself, 
but the lad did not like business and wanted to enter one of the professions. Be- 
longing to the Friends, who have no ministers and do not believe it is right to g-o 
to law, he could not be either a lawyer or a preacher, so he made up his mind to 
be a physician. His- father sent him to the University of Pennsylvania when he 
was seventeen years old, and to Edinburgh as soon as he g-raduated. In the sum- 
mer of his twenty-fifth year the medical degree of the g-reat Scotch University was 
conferred upon him, and he returned to Philadelphia. He did not begin to practice 
until about two years after coming home ; but as soon as he did enter the doctors' 
ranks, he took his place at once as a physician and scientist of high rank. In 
a short time he became a prominent member of the Academy of Natural Sciences, 
:and one of the writers for the journal it published. Throughout the rest of his life 
he wrote many valuable articles for that magazine and the other leading scientific 
journals of this country. 

In the course of his studies. Dr. Morton became very much interested in learn- 
ing about the races of men from their skulls, and he then turned a great deal 
of his attention to the people who lived in this country long before it was discov- 
ered by Columbus. By collecting- and carefully studying the skulls of these first 
Americans, or aborigines — some races of which had died out before the first white 
man ever landed here— he found out many things that seem to show what sort of 
people they were. This study, which is called ethnology, is a branch of science that 
is only taken up by the most careful and studious scholars. It stands very hig-h 
among learned men, and Dr. Morton soon became known as one of its most 
thorough investigators in any part of the world. 



Horace Wells. 331 

Wlien he first began to lecture upon the different shapes of the skull in the five 
great i-aces of men, he could not get enough skulls to illustrate what he said, so he 
then began to make a collection of them himself, and in time this became the 
largest private cabinet of crania — as they are called by scientists — in the world, 
and was celebrated far and wide. His books on this subject are among the most 
, important that have been published, and are doubly- valuable that they are writ- 
ten in a modest, impartial spirit, showing that the author was truly devoted to 
his science and not to making himself noted. 

During mam^ years Dr. Morton stood among the very greatest scientists in 
the woi'ld. His writings, both in books and mag-azines, covered many exceeding'ly 
important subjects and were full of new and valuable information upon natural 
history, geology, and other sciences not closely connected with medicine, while his 
works on chemistry, anatomy, and other subjects belonging to his profession 
were among the greatest of his time. 

Dr. Samuel G. Morton was born on the 26th of January, 1799, in Philadelphia, 
where he died. May 18, 1851. 

Some twenty-five years ago there were probably no members of the medical 
profession better known by name than Horace Wells, William Morton, and Charles 
Thomas Jackson, each of whom claimed to have been the first person to discover 
ana?stlietics — that is, to have found out that by breathing or inhaling cei'tain 
gases the senses will for a time become dull to pain and to the knowledge of 
everything taking place before them. It was the greatest discover^" for human 
comfort that has ever been made, for until about the year 184G no one knew of 
anything that would lessen the sense of bodily suffering to any extent without 
running the risk of taking the patient's life, or injuring his mind forever. When 
people met with terrible accidents or had to undergo any operation, such as having 
legs or arms cut off or cancers cut out, there was nothing known that could ease 
their agony or make them unconscious of all that was taking place. Several 
^ things had been tried, but for the most part they did more harm than good, 
so physicians and surgeons did not attempt to use them at all. But, meanwhile, 
many were trying to discover something that would produce unconsciousness 
without doing harm, and finally the secret was found in three different bodies, by 
three different men at about the same time. But they or their friends would not 
tell you about it in this way. They would say that only one found the great secret, 
and that both the others were impostors. It would make no difference wiiich one 
you had asked ; each one claimed for himself the full credit of the great discov- 
evy, and maintained that both the others were trying to defraud him of his rights. 
It is probable that they had all been working for it in a careful, scientific way, 



332 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

and that the\' all came upon what the^^ sought at about tlie same time. Other 
great discoveries have been made in this way, and it is well known that in many 
cases several minds, when working- entirely away from one another, and often un- 
known to each other, have brought forth much the same ideas at about the 

same time. 

Whether the secret of aniesthetics was first revealed to each of the three 
claimants or only to one of them, will probably never be decided ; but certain it is 
the world is indebted to them all for the wonderful blessing that a knowledg-e of it 
has spread through the human race It became known in about the year 1845. 
When, in national affairs, the Tyler administration was drawing- to a close and 
that of Polk was beginning; when the whole nation was disturbed about the annex- 
ation of Texas ; when the war-cloud of the Mexican conflict was gathering- over the 
land, and the North and South were becoming- bitter enemies over the slavery 
question ; when Morse's telegraph was just being broug-ht into use, and Fremont 
was opening- up the far West, a new era in medicine was dawning- in New England 
that soon lit up the whole of the civilized world, extending- far beyond professional 
limits to all beings that can feel and suffer. " The deepest furrow in the knotted brow 
of agony has been smoothed forever," wrote our physician-poet, Oliver Wendell 
Holmes. Yet, great as it was, like all wondei-ful discoveries, its merits were not 
generally admitted at first. As there are always opposers to every new thing- and 
mean, jealous people in every profession who would even rather that the world 
should go without a g-reat benefit than that any but they themselves should intro- 
duce it, so it was with the discovery of anaesthetics. Some chemists and physi- 
cians even wrote letters and made speeches against using it, but its value was too 
clear for them to have much influence, and the only great struggle about it was 
between the discoverers themselves. 

The governments and learned scientiflc societies of the world w^ere eager to 
honor the finder of the wonderful secret — but to whom were their awards due ? 
Three men claimed the merit, each bringing plenty of good proof that his right 
alone was the true one. Instead of "in honor preferring one another," or even' 
allowing that possibly their claims were equal, they opened war against each 
other. Sides were taken by surgeons, physicians, scientists, and personal friends 
throughout the world, and the controversy became one of the bitterest ever known 
in the medical profession. The matter has never been decided wholly for any one 
of them ; generally, the discovery is looked upon as a joint one, for which humanity 
is deeply indebted to three New England doctors, for if it were not actually dis- 
covered by them all, it has certainly been made known to the world by the 
efforts of all of them. 

Many of the fairest judges say that if the long-contested honor belonged to any 



Horace Wells. 



333 



one more than another, it was to Horace Wells, a dentist of Hartford, Vermont. 
His claims have been acknowledged both in Europe and America, and the French 
Academy honored him with its dei^rree of Doctor of Medicine. 

Dr. Wells was an uncommonly restless man, always active in mind and body, 
intelligent, fond of machinery, and in his own town he was well known as an in- 




/ 



Horace Wells. 

ventor before he had v^wY great fame in dentistry. Many of his machines were 
patented and w^ere of decided value. 

Before there was a college of dentistry in Boston, he had gone to the great New 
England city from his lovely native town on the banks of the Connecticut, and 
there obtained the best education possible to fit hmiself as a dental surgeon. Re- 
turning to Hartford, he opened an office. He was very able and intelligent ; he 
invented and made most of his own instruments, and before long took rank among 
the most skillful dentists in the town. One of his inventions was a new solder for 



334 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

fastening- false teeth upon the plate; and with it he and Dr. W. T. G. Morton— 
who had been his fellow-student, was now his warm friend, hut in after years be- 
came his bitter enem^- — resolved to go into partnership and open an office in Bos- 
ton. They called on Dr. Charles T. Jackson, then a great chemist, who for a 
good sum in payment certified to the value and purity of the solder, which was a 
vast improvement over the bad-smelling and ill-tasting stuff then in common 
use. 

The firm of Wells & Morton did not succeed, and the connection was soon 
broken. But this was only done because their business did not pay ; they separated 
the best of friends. Dr. Morton remained in Boston, and Dr. Wells went back to 
Hartford. Here he continued his practice and kept up his scientific studies for 
some time. It was about ten years after he had begun to study dentistry that he 
suddenly felt that teeth could be taken out without giving pain if the patient w^ere 
put under the influence of nitrous oxide gas. He looked into the matter thor- 
oughly, and requested his friend Dr. Riggs to try the experiment upon himself— 
that is, upon Dr. Wells. A large, sound tooth was taken out, from w^hich the 
doctor felt scarcely any pain : the great secret of anaesthetics was discovered. 
This was on the 11th of December, 1844, and from that time the gas was used 
with success hj Dr. Wells and several other dentists of Hartford. About two 
years later. Dr. Morton made it known that sulphuric ether could be used in 
much the same way, and Dr. Jackson, with his chloroform dissolved in alcohol, 
opened the bitter contest about to whom belongs the honor of having first dis- 
covered a means of deadening the senses to pain. So, as some one has said, the 
discovery, which was of untold value to the world, became a cup of un mingled 
woe and sorrow to the discoverer and his afflicted family. And as this was 
true of one, so was it also true of all the claimants. 

Dr. Wells's health became poor soon after these events, and he had to give up 
his business for awhile. Going to Europe, he visited the great physicians, col- 
leges, and hospitals abroad, learning a great deal about his profession, regaining 
his health, and paying his expenses by selling pictures which he imported for that 
purpose. 

He also amused himself during part of this time by lecturing on birds, for he 
was educated in natural history and loved the feathered friends of the woods. He 
was fond of all Nature's works ; he had been born and brought up on a lovely, ro- 
mantic farm on the Connecticut River, and no trouble or expense had been spared 
on his early education. His parents, who were wealthy jjeople for that region, 
had fine minds and took a great deal of pains to give their children good training 
in morals and in mind. Horace had grown up handsome, active, and generous, 
showing the traits when he w^as a bov that marked him as a man. He had gone 



William Thomas Green Morton. 335 

to g-ood schools, and when his father died before his education was quite finished, 
lie had made his own wa}^ by teaching- in one district school and many writing-- 
schools. While at one of the academies, before he was out of his teens, he united 
with the church, and as he g-rew up to manhood he thought seriously of becoming- 
a minister ; but at the age of nineteen he went to Boston to study dentistry instead. 
He honoi-ed religion as a la^-man, for his life was always that of a true Christian ; 
he was respected for his g-reat purity of character, for his generous impulses, 
and for his kindness and love to all closely connected Avith him, 

Tlie peojjle who passed handsome Dr. Wells on the street saw only a man of 
medium height, with a good figure, large head, and light skin, walking along- with 
his eyes cast down and his face in thoughtful lines ; but when they stopped to 
speak to him, there was a bright, pleasant change in his looks ; he spoke in an an- 
imated, cheerful voice, and showed a kindl}^, cordial manner that made him very 
attractive. He had such refined and sensitive feelings that he did not go much 
among people he was not well acquainted with, though he was a good friend and 
always a worthy citizen. 

After his return from Europe, he went to New York, to introduce the use of 
anaesthetics into the hospitals. All the discoveries were then new, and being veiy 
anxious to use the best and safest of them, he made a great many trials of the 
properties of each. At last he was convinced that chloroform was a better agent 
than either nitrous oxide gas — his own discovery — or ether — the discovery of Dr. 
Morton — and he began experimenting with it upon himself. It is a dangerous, 
deadly drug, and, even in Dr. Wells's skillful hands, did serious mischief. Not 
knowing the fidl extent of its power, he used it too much until his mind was 
affected and finally upset by it, and, one day — before he had been in New York a 
month — it was found that in an attack of insanity he had taken his own life — that 
noble, upright, g-ifted life, which had only reached its thirty-third year a few 
days before. 

Dr. Horace Wells was born in Hartford, Vermont, January 21, 1815. He died 
in New York City, January 24, 1848. 

While William Thomas Green Morton cannot have the full honor of 
having discovered aniesthetics, to him certainly belongs the distinction of having 
foimd out that sulphuric ether could be put to that use, and of having- done more 
than any one else, or all others, to make known the great secret of how to deaden 
the feelings to pain to all classes of people, in both the Old World and the New, 

Dr. Morton was a New England man, and, like Dr. Wells, a dentist. He was 
born just as this century was passing into the midsummer of its first score of 
years. 



■336 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Wlien it came time for him to go to school he beg-an at the town academy, for 
which Dr. Morton's fatlier — wlio liad been deprived of much education himself — 
secured a much better teacher than New Eng-land villages usually had at that time. 
When William was thirteen years of age it was thought that he was old enoug-h 
to be sent from home to attend some noted academy. The first year he was away 
he lived in the family of a physician and had not been there long before he felt his 
old desire to study medicine return. Nearly all the leisure time he had during- that 
term was spent in the doctor's study, poring- over medical books. 

On liis next visit home he told his father and mother that he had made up his 
mind to become a physician, and they were well pleased. But by the time he was 
about seventeen years old his father failed in business, and he had to leave school 
and g-o with Mr. Morton to Boston, where he was employed in a large publishing- 
house. The busy life of the l)ookselling- business gave him no time for study and 
reading-, and he soon became discouraged and returned home. From that time 
until he was of ag-e, he worked only to g-ain money enoug-h to study, and was 
almost a complete failure in business. 

When he Avas twenty-one— that is, in the year 1840 — he went to Baltimore, 
where the first College of Dental Surgery was founded by the newly-formed 
American Society of Dental Surgeons. 

Dentistry was at that time a barbarous practice, almost withoirt either art or 
skill at its command, and there was a very decided movement in the country to 
improve it. For a long time some of the most prominent dentists in the countrj' 
had been tr^nng- to organize this society, but it was not fully formed until midsum- 
mer in 1840, the very month in which William Morton became of ag-e. Its object 
was to *' give character and respectability to the profession, diffuse a knowledge 
of dental theory and practice, but above all to establish dental colleges through- 
out the United States, for the proper instruction of those who mig-ht wish to 
enter upon this career." 

At that time the great desire of young Morton's life was to become a physi- 
cian ; but as that was impossible to him, and the Dental Society offered an open- 
ing to a profession that he considered next best to that of medicine, he resolved to 
make the most of the chance. 

After a year and a half of dilig-ent study, part of the time in Baltimore and 
part of the time at the North, he received his diploma and was ready to practice. 
Settling" in Boston, he began business in the short and unsuccessful partnership 
with Dr. Horace Wells, but after that he went along more prosperously^ by him- 
self. He began to find out and adopt better ways of doing things than most den- 
tists then employed, and resolved to devote himself to improving the methods of 
the profession. After making several fruitless efforts to get on visiting terms^at 



William ThoDias Green Morton. 337 

the offices of other dentists, he finally paid five hundred dollars to Dr. Keep — who 
had a hig-h standing- at that time — for free access to him and his laboratory at all 
times and liberty to make his own use of all he learned there. At the same time 
he collected a cabinet of specimens, and perfected the appliances in his rooms, so 
that befoi'e long- his was the best-fitted dentist's office in the city. 

Some of the improvements that he soon brought out were of decided impor- 
tance, and encourag-ed him to g'o on. He was particularlj' anxious to find some 
way of painlessly taking- out the i-oots of old teeth — which were too often left in 
those days of bung-ling- dentistry to ache and to g-ive foul smells and unpleasant 
taste to the mouth. He tried stimulants even to making- the person intoxicated, 
and used opium and mag-netism, but none would serve the purpose. Then he re- 
solved to study and experiment till he should find the rig-ht thing-. He had not 
gone far in this search before he found himself very much limited by knowing- almost 
nothing- about medicine. So, two years after he g-raduated from the dental col- 
lege, and in the midst of quite a g-ood practice, he beceme a medical student in the 
office of a physician and began to attend lectures at the Medical Colleg-e in 
Boston. 

One of the things he learned at that time was that sulphuric ether can, without 
liarm, be breathed in small quantities. It was to him a most important piece of 
information, and he beg-an at once to experiment with it upon himself. After 
making- sure about its safety-, he used it on a man, and found with joy that the 
patient remained perfectly unconscious and felt no pain while the doctor took out 
the root of a larg-e, firm, double-pronged tooth. This was September 30, 1846 ; 
afterward he make other successful trials of the same thing, and finally sent an 
account of them to Dr. John C. Warren, a professor of the medical college, and 
one of the greatest Boston surgeons of his day. Dr. Warren requested Dentist 
Morton to make his administration of ether on a patient at the Massachusetts 
general hospital, from whose jaw a tumor was to be taken by a most painful op- 
eration. The man remained perfectl3' unconscious until after the surgery was all 
done. 

Although there w^as no question about the value of Dr. Moi'ton's discovery, it 
met with bitter opposition throughout the countiy, among- both physicians, den- 
tists, and other surgeons. He obtained a patent for it under the name of 
" Etheon," in the United States and in England, in which he offered free rights to 
all charitable institutions in all parts of the country. But the Government and 
man}' private institutions appropriated its use without paying any attention to the 
patent, and in man^^ ways Dr. Morton's discovery became an affliction to himself 
and his famii}', while it was of untold benefit to others. A bitter war of opposi- 
tion began at once between him and Dr. Jackson, who claimed that his discovery 



338 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

of the ansesthetical influence of chloroform and also of ether were made before Dr, 
Morton's. He refused to receive his share of the joint award of the French Acad- 
emy, althoug-h in 1852— some years after— he received the large gold medal, the 
Monyton prize in medicine and surgery. By indomitable will and the encour- 
agement of his friends, he maintained his claim in spite of all the troubles that 
came on him for doing so, the greatest of which were a broken business and large 
debts, so that even his home was attached by the sheriff. His first appeal to 
Congress for justice upon his patent right was not noticed, his second secured the 
appointment of a committee of physicians, who reported that he was entitled to 
the merit of the discovery, but did not recommend any money to be given him. 
A third appeal was made, which resulted in an investigation of his claims and se- 
cured to him the honor of the discovery of practical aneesthesia, and made an ap- 
propriation, which was voted on twice and was lost, as were also, after ten years 
of delay, his efforts to get the Government to recognize its own patent. Now 
thoroughly discouraged with his defeat, his creditors resolved to wait no longer, 
and he became utterly ruined in fortunes. After several other vain efforts, he had 
one success. In 1858 — twelve years after the discovery was made — he finally won 
a suit in the United States Court against a marine hospital surgeon for infringing 
his patent. Thus by hard fighting he succeeded in having his claim recog- 
nized, though the royalties on it were never paid. In other ways, too, both at 
home and abroad, the discovery was acknowledged his and in some cases he re- 
ceived the honors it merits. 

In his later years he became a farmer at Wellesley, Massachusetts, importing 
and raising fine cattle ; but his life was bound up in his discovery and when, in 
the summer of his fiftieth year, an article was published, attempting to deprive 
him of the cherished credit, he was so excited about it that a sudden illness came 
on and caused his death. 

Dr. W. T. G. Morton was born in Charlton, Massachusetts, August 9, 1819. 
He died in New York City, July 15, 1868. 

Although Charles Thomas Jackson received the degree of Doctor of 
Medicine from Harvard University when he was twenty-four years old, he is bet- 
ter known as a mineralogist, a geologist, and a chemist, than as a physician. It 
was in following out chemical studies that he made his much-disputed discovery. 

His claim was that in the year 1834— when he was twenty-nine years old— he 
found that an alcoholic solution of chloroform— that is, chloroform melted or dis- 
solved in alcohol — would, by being placed upon a nerve, deaden it to pain. He 
also found, he said, that if a piece of lint saturated with a mixture of one part 
chloroform and three parts of alcohol were put into the cavity of a painful tooth. 



Charles Thomas Jackson. 339 

it would stop the pain at once, and by repeated applications would completely de- 
stroy the sensibility of the nerve. If Dr. Jackson really did make this discovery 
at the time he claimed, he undoubtedly was the first to find the secret of anaes- 
thetics, for Dr. Wells's discovery was not brought out until eleven years later, 
and Dr. Morton's was made known to the world two years after that. But he 
did not reveal the result of his experiments at once. Instead, he took up others 
with the same object in view. After trying- the effects of exhilarating or "laugh- 
ing " gas — which is protoxide of nitrogen— and finding that it was not a real an- 
aesthetic, but only caused asphyxia, he began to stud^' the merits of sulphuric 
ether. He tried this upon himself, he said, with a mixture of atmospheric air — 
out-of-door air, you know — and found that he could breathe it and make himself 
unconscious for a long time without its leaving any dangerous or disagreeable re- 
sults. Shortly after this he had an accident. Without meaning to he breathed 
into his lungs some chlorine which gave him a great deal of pain. To ease the 
sutfering, he inhaled some ether vapor, which gave him such relief that he made 
up his mind ' ' that a surgical operation might be performed on a patient under the 
full influence of sulphuric ether without giving him any pain." This was Profes- 
sor Jackson's claim to the great discovery. It was brought before the public in 
about the year 18-46. He was a man well known in Boston, where he was prac- 
ticing medicine when he made the discovery about chloroform. A couple of years 
after that time he withdrew from his labors as a physician, and giving his time 
to other scientific studies, became especially noted for his knowledge of chemistry, 
mineralogy, and geology. He had already been geologist for the States of Maine 
and Rhode Island and New Hampshire, one after the other, and had taken a very 
forward and noted part in surveying those States and making known their min- 
eral resources, as he also did those of the unbroken wilderness of New York, 
which he explored after his discovery of ether. 

So, he was a scientific man of known attainments, and many took up his claim 
to the great discovery, while others believed in those of Dr. Morton and of Dr. Wells. 
He was supported by most of the Boston physicians and was honored abroad by 
orders and decorations from the governments of France, Sweden, Prussia, Turkey, 
and Sardinia. 

The great French Academy of Sciences was deeply interested in the discovery 
and appointed a committee to investigate and consider the merits of each claim- 
ant. The result of the report was that a prize of twenty-live hundred francs was 
given to Dr. Jackson as " the discoverer of etherization," and another of the same 
value was awarded to Dr. Morton " for the application of this discovery to scien- 
tific operations." Dr. Morton refused his. 

Dr. Jackson was already known in Europe ; when fresh from Harvard College 



340 One Hundred Famous Americans., 

he hud studied three years in Paris, and afterward made a loot journey through 
Switzerland and various portions of Germany and Austria. Later he had visited 
tlie chief cities of Ital}^ and made a g-eolog'ical tour tlirougli Sicily and Auvergne, 
in France. H^e returned on the same vessel — the packet ship Sully — which carried 
Professor Morse from Havre to New York on that important journey during 
which was conceived the idea of the magnetic telegraph. Dr,«Jackson was the fel- 
low-passenger with wliom Morse talked about electricity, and he was also one of the 
men who unsuccessfully claimed the honor of being the inventor of the telegraph. 

He was so great a scientist, made so many valuable discoveries, and wrote so 
man,y able articles for the scientific journals of Europe and America, that he would 
have a place among our famous men if he had no claim at all to having given the 
world the blessing of auEesthetics ; and since, after careful investigation, this has 
been acknowledged before all others by the first of all scientific societies, his place 
is firmly established as one of the three great benefactors to the pain-suffering 
world. Nearly all Professor Jackson's chemical studies, like those in geology, 
were for practical use. Some of them were upon the cotton-plant, the tobacco- 
plant, Indian corn, a number of different kinds of American grapes, and other 
products of the United States. 

Overtaxed perhaps by his severe studies and crossed by many bitter con- 
tests over what he claimed to be his best work, his mind became affected as he 
grew old, and the Jast seven years of his life were unhappily passed in an asylum 
for the insane. 

Charles Thomas Jackson was born in Plymouth, Massachusetts, June 21, 1805. 
He died in Somerville, Massachusetts, August 29, 1880. 

The celebrated Austin Flint, the loss of whose venerable figure, kindly face, 
benevolent spirit and blameless life is still fresh in the memory of the whole 
country, was the greatest of a great race of physicians. His great-grandfather, 
Dr. Edward Flint, was a noted man in the early days of the Massachusetts Colony, 
and his grandfather and father were both physicians of repute and men of talent. 

" Old Dr. Flint," as he was called — because he had a son of the same name — 
was born during our second war with England, in New England, where all his 
American ancestors had lived. His father was not a rich man, and he had a large 
family, but this son from his "babyhood showed such great power of mind and was 
so studious, good, and dutiful, that his father expected wonderful things of him, 
and was willing to make any sacrifices to give him advantages. He was delighted 
that, while yet a boy, Austin decided to become a physician, and willingly made a 
good deal of elfort to educate him at Amherst and Harvard. He gi'aduated from 
the Harvard Medical College when he was twenty-one ,years old, and began to 



Austin Flint. 341 

l^ractice in Northampton, Massachusetts, from whence he went to Boston. After 
three j^ears m these places he moved again, going- this time to Bufialo, New York, 
which was then considered very far West indeed. 

From the first his success with his patients and his writing-s in the medical 
journals attracted attention. He was soon asked to lecture in the Rush Medical 
College in Chicag'o, which he did for a year, and then I'eturned to Buffalo and 
founded the Buffalo Medical Journal, of which he remained the editor for ten 
years. 

Meanwhile his usefulness was extending- ; he helped to found the Buffalo Medi- 
cal College ; he hecame a professor in the Louisville University ; later, while still 
calling- Butfalo his home, he passed several winters just before the war in New 
Orleans, lecturing and practicing. 

At the beginning of the struggle for the Union, he moved his family to New 
York, where he lived during the rest of his life, as one of the most honored phy- 
sicians, not only in America, but in the world. Soon after coming to New York he 
became one of the doctors of Bellevue Hospital and was appointed to two profes- 
sorships, one at Bellevue and one at the Long- Island College Hospital in Brook- 
lyn. Long before his death the calls upon his time and streng-th became so many 
that he gave up his position in the Brooklyn school, but his connection with the 
Bellevue College lasted until his death. He was a member of man^^ medical soci- 
eties, both in this country and in Europe, and filled in them some most honorable po- 
sitions. Two of the most important of these offices were in the New York Academy 
of Medicine, of which he was president for ten years, and the American Medical 
Association, of which he was president for two years. For a much longer time, 
when not holding office, he was an active, earnest member of both these societies, 
as well as of many others. Before his death he had been chosen president of the 
International Medical Congress to meet in 1887, but that he could not fill. During 
the winter before his death he had also been invited to address the British Medical 
Association, an honor never before paid to any American man of science. 

Dr. Flint's books are all on subjects connected with his profession : there are 
a number of them, and all are considered standard works, remarkable for their 
easy, pleasant reading, as well as for their value to science. Deep and learned as 
they are, being written only for professional men, they seem to show forth in their 
style something of the directness, the modesty and simple manliness of the great 
mind that formed them. But no book, not even a biography, can convey a full 
idea of his noble character. His kindness was for all who met him in his business or 
in friendship, and his benevolence to the poor was open-hearted and unpretentious. 

Dr. Austin Flint. Sr., was born at Petersham, Massachusetts, October "20, 1812. 
He died in New York City, March 13, 1886. 



343 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Long- before his death the elder Dr. FUnt saw his son in the foremost ranks of 
their profession, making- himself especially distinguished in the department of 
pliysiology. Austin Flint, Jr., belongs to the fifth generation of medical doctors 
in this remarkable family, and is the third Dr. Austin Flint. While filling various 
important positions as surgeon and professor in hospitals and colleg-es, he has 
added much to medical literature— chiefly on physiology— and has spent a great 
^deal of time in making new experiments, some on living- animals. The results 
were often important discoveries which attracted the interest and attention of 
almost all the scientific men in the country. He was one of the founders of the 
Bellevue Medical College in New York City, and from its beginning- has been one 
of its professors. 

Among other great living physicians and surgeons of America, the name of 
Dr. William Roberts is one of the best known and most highly honored of practic- 
ing physicians in the West; those of Dr. Roberts Barthalow, and Dr. S. Weir 
Mitchell — who has written many medical books, and is especially devoted to the 
cure of nervous diseases — are among- the most famous in Philadelphia — the home 
of the profession in this country and the seat of the Homoeopathic School. In 
New York, Dr. S. L. Ranne3' is one of the most successful of practicing physicians, 
as is also Dr. Alfred Loomis, who is celebrated for his knowledg-e of diseases. 
Dr. Cornelius R. Agnew, Dr. Robert F. Weir, and Dr. William T. Helmuth, Sr., 
are eminent surgeons in their special lines, while Dr. Thomas F. Allen, the author 
of the great work on Materia Medica, and many other valuable writing-s, is also a 
successful general physician and surgeon, and a specialist in diseases of the eyo, 
and ear. Boston can also claim some of the greatest specialists as well as several 
of the most eminent general surg-eons of this ag-e. 

Of the women who have made their way into this, the noble profession, and 
have shown marked ability in it, the first is Miss Elizabeth Blackwell, who, though 
born in England, came early to America. Her work began here. She was the 
first woman in the world to obtain a medical diploma, and not only overcame 
every difficulty in her way to passing through a medical college in this country, 
but afterward went to Paris, and though told it would be impossible for her to 
gain entrance to the hospitals, kept persistenly on till she had most successfully 
g-ained her object — her own education and an entrance into the profession for other 
women. Dr. Blackwell is now sixty-six years old, and is still practicing with suc- 
cess in London, England. Much of her hfe has been spent here. She founded a 
woman's medical college in New York City, which is now in its twentieth year, 
and of which Dr. Emily Blackwell, the founder's sister, is dean ; and for many 
years she had a large private practice among- New York people. 



SCHOLARS AND TEACHERS. 



OUTSIDE of the ministry one of the first really learned men of which America 
could boast was Lindley Murray, the brilliant scholar who made the 
famous " Mujtraj's Grammar of the English Lang-ua^^-e." 

He was the son of Robert Murray, a strict, stern Quaker miller, who lived near 
Lancaster, Pennsylvania ; and he began his education under one of the best teach- 
lers in Philadelphia. After a few 3^ears the family moved to New York, where 
Mr. Murray became one of the leading- merchants of his day. It is said that eig-ht 
or ten yeai'S before the Revolution, he owned more tons of shipping" than any other 
man in America, and that he also was one of the five persons in New York who 
were at that day rich enough to own a coach. He tried to make a merchant of 
his son, and put him in his own counting--room ; but Lindley was very unhappy 
with the round of his work and the hard restraints his father imposed. When 
they first came from Philadelphia, he had gone on with his studies, expecting to 
prepare for college ; but bad health prevented this, and the distasteful counting- 
room had been opened to him instead. Affairs did not always go on smoothly 
there, and one day the father punished his son unjustly, as Lindle^^ thought, and 
the boy ran away. For many weeks he hid himself in a boarding-house at Bur- 
lington, New Jersey, where he spent his time in study. After his pai'ents found 
him, he was induced to return honie, and allowed to go on with his studies. 

In a short time he entered a law office where John Jay, afterwards the famous 
diplomat, was a fellow-student. He followed his studies earnestly, and with the 
present of a fine law library from his father, entered the profession with a license 
to practice " in all the courts of the province " and every prospect of great suc- 
cess. But his health again gave out, and taking his wife — they had just been 
married — ^with him, he went to England for a change of climate. They returned 
in 1771, after a stay of several years, during* which they were with his fatlier and 
most of the family, for, leaving two sons in New York, Robert Murray had opened 
a London branch of his business that greatly extended its importance. Lindley's 
health was much better for the change, and after coming back to America he 



344 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

attended to his law practice successfully^ until the Revolutionary War broke out. 
Then, being- a Friend and forbidden to take any part in the conflict, if he had 
wanted to, he made his home for the next four years in a quiet cottage at Islip, 
Long- Island. Then he went over to New York to try commerce instead of law, 
and by the close of the war he had become one of the wealthy business men of 
the town. 

He retired with a fortune when scarcely more than thirty-five j^ears old, but 
not to comfort and happihess, for bad health had again come on him. After 
moving from one country-seat near New York to another in Bethlehem, Penn- 
sylvania, he and Mrs. Murray w^ere finally forced to go to an entirely different 
climate. They sailed for England and made their home on a beautiful estate in 
Yorkshire. Yet even here the invalid was little better off. He gradually became 
lame, and was confined to his room for sixteen years. This affliction came upon 
him in the prime of life, whUe his mind was in the fullness of its power ; so, in- 
stead of passing his years in unhappy idleness, he occupied them with study and 
writing. He was very much opposed to ever becoming an idler. Then it was. 
that he made his great English Grammar and English Reader, wrote a number 
of religious works, and compiled several French readers. " I was often asked," 
he said, " to compose and publish a grammar of the English language, for the 
use of some teachers who were not perfectly satisfied with any of the existing* 
grammars." After declining many times, he at length undertook the work, and 
with a great many misgivings about its success gave it into the hands of the pub- 
lishers, who brought it out in 1795. 

It would not seem a remai'kable school-book now, for so very many have since 
been made on mucli the same plan ; but it will always be a famous book, because 
it was the first great step toward well-arranged and graded grammars. Mr, 
Murray spoke of this new idea of his very modestl^^ when he said that it seemed 
to him that " a grammar containing a careful selection of the most useful matter 
and an adaptation of it to the understanding, and the gradual progress of learners, 
with a special regard to the propriety and purity of all the examples and illustra- 
tions, would be some ^improvement on any of the grammars I had seen." It was. 
a great success at once ; it not only gave teachers and students a better text-book 
for learning the English language than had ever before been known, but it aroused 
a great deal of interest in gi-ammar among the leading scholars of the time, 
bringing forward critical discussions which raised the use and the principles of lan- 
guage to a more important place than they had. ever held before among people in 
general. As the various new editions were called for, Mr. Murray enlarged and 
improved his book so that it came to be a very comprehensive and thorough work,. 
a standard for reference and a popular school-room guide. It was followed by a 



Lindley Murray. 



345 



simpler book for lower g-rades and beginners, and many other volumes of exercise 
books, spellers, and readers. He was a careful, painstaking- scholar, and in ad- 
dition to the writing- spent a great deal of time in correcting- the proof-sheets, so 
that the pag-es should be as accurate as possible. 

He was a very pious man, with the greatest humility in regard to his work 




-,#/// _wv 



T.iNDLEY Murray. 



and the distinguished honors it brought him. His manners were simple, gracious,, 
and engaging ; and while he loved best a quiet, studious life, he entertained many 
friends. He was a pleasing and an able talker upon many matters, and seldom 
said much about his own affliction, although for a long time he was not even able 
to rise from his seat. Even when he was alone with his family, he did not allow 



346 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

his suffering" — which was very great at times — to make him in any way ill-tem- 
pered. Instead, he was brig-ht and lively in his nature, ever cheerful, thoughtful 
and perfectly satisfied that his life was ruled by God and nothing in it was amiss. 

It was always a regret that he was forced to live away from America, and 
for a long" time he hoped to return before his death. The g-reat movements, the 
steady progress, and every matter of the nation's welfare interested him ; and 
when he died he wilU^d that the bulk of his estate should, after his wife's death, 
form a pei-manent fund to be used here in freeing- " black people who may be held in 
slavery, assisting them when freed, and giving- their descendants or the descend- 
ants of other black people, suitable education ; in promoting- the civilization and 
instruction of the Indians of North America ; in the purchase and distribution of 
books tending- to promote pietj- and virtue and the truth of Christianity, and it is 
his Avish that 'The Power of Religion on the Mind, in Retirement, Affliction, and 
at the Approach of Death ' (Mr. Murraj^'s own book), with the author's latest cor- 
rections and improvements, may form a considerable part of these books ; and in 
assisting- and relieving the poor of any description, in any manner that may be 
judged proper, especially those who are sober, industrious, and of good character." 

Lindley Murra^^ was born at Swetara, Pennsylvania, sometime in the year 
1745. He died at Holdg-ate near York, England, February 16, 18^6. 

While Lindley Murray, in exile from his native land, was giving the world 
some much-needed work on the English language, Beiijamiii Tlioini)soii, his 

countryman, was rising- steadil^^ to the very highest rank among European scien- 
tists and philosophers. It is not easy to say just what place in history this won- 
derful man held, for he filled many offices of power and infiuence both as a scien- 
tist, a soldier, and a statesman ; but as his discoveries in science were of world-wide 
benefit, while most of his other services were for the good of that special nation 
which claimed him at the time, as an American he stands g-reatest as a man of 
learning. 

Benjamin Thompson's boyhood was passed in school untU he was fourteen; af- 
ter that as a clerk to a merchant in Salem, Massachusetts. When he was eigh- 
teen he had made his way to Harvard University and listened eagerly to a 
course of lectvu-es on philosophy, which were given with practical experiments be- 
fore the class ; and in the same year he began teaching- school in the town of Rum- 
ford, which is now called Concord. He was then a tall, handsome young man of 
twenty years, with a fine mind and courteous manners. He won the rich Mrs. 
Rolfe, a widow, for his wife, and with her moved to Woburn, his native town. 

When the battle of Lexington took place, it is said that he turned out with the 
patriots and afterward applied for a commission in the Continental Armj'. But 



Benjamin Thompson. 



341 



dn history he is known as a Tory. At the beginning- of the trouble he had dedined 
to join with the Colonists against the king, so they refused to have him in their 
ranks when the conflict began, and he joined the Royalists. At this his townsmen 
turned out against him, following him through the streets in a thi'eatening crowd 
until he had to seek refuge in the British camp at Boston. There he was taken 




Benjamin Thompson. 

into the service and sent to England in the autumn of 1TT5, to carr}^ despatches to 
Lord George Germain. He was not returned to America, but was appointed clerk 
in the Foreign Office, where he did such good work that in four years he became 
Under Secretary of State. During the last year of the Revolution he was sent 
back to this country with the commission of a high office in the army, but he never 
took part in any action of war, and was called back again before he had seen his 
wife and child. 



348 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

After returning- to Eng-land, he went almost at once to German^' with letters 
to some of its greatest men from several of the most distinguished persons in Eng- 
land, for, by that time, Benjamin Thompson's ahilit}^ as a statesman and his sci- 
entific attainments had placed hnn among the foremost men of the day, although 
he was but little over thirty years of ag-e. In the German State of Bavaria he was 
made most welcome, and introduced to the Elector or reigning- prince, who asked 
him to become his aid-de-camp and chamberlain. Being- a British- subject and 
lately in the service of the Government, he had to go to England for permis- 
sion to accept these offers. They were not only cordially granted by the king-, 
but the industrious New England schoolmaster was knig-hted hx His Majesty and 
took his way to his new offices as Sir Benjamin Thompson. His abilities soon won 
for him still higher places in the esteem of the prhice, and he became the second 
man in the kingdom. From an aid he was made Lieutenant-Gen era! , then Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the Staff, Minister of War, and lastly Commander-in-Chief of 
the General Staff. In diplomacy he was equally great, and was made Member of 
the Council of State, while he was created Knight of Poland and Member of the 
Academy of Sciences in three cities. Then, when he showed himself able to reform 
many evils in the condition of Munich— the capital and chief city of the State — he 
became Superintendent of the Police of Bavaria, and was even made Chief Regent 
when, in 179G, the prihce was forced to be absent from his realm. 

He had already become known by a greater title than that of a knight. In 1 790 
he had been raised to the highest office under the German kings, by being made 
a Count in the Holy Roman Empire. This was equal to the English title of Earl, 
and was a' great honor to any one, especially a foreig-ner. In memory of the 
Massachusetts town where he had found his wife and his little daughtei' was born, 
he chose the title of Count Rumford, by which name he is best known in history. 
His wife died in America about this time, and he sent for his daug-hter, then a 
beautiful young lady of twenty, to join him. 

The people of Munich have statues to his memory, and hold his name in as 
grateful remembrance as many of their countrymen ; and he well deserves their 
honors. The begg-ars who overran and disg-raced the city he provided with work- 
houses, and compelled them to earn their own living. Yet the poor and sick were 
on his mind for care and protection, and it was while devising- means to warm and 
clothe them with economy that he made some experiments with heat and light 
which led to very valuable discoveries in science. Beside the practical results of 
making improved chimneys and apparatus for heating- and lighting houses. Count 
Rumford proved in these studies that "gases are non-conductors, and fluids very 
imperfect conductors of heat ; " he also explained that '^ heat is extended in liquids 
only by convection, or the continuous changing about of the particles of the 



Alexander Wilson. 349 

liquid," and that " a flame in open air gives but little heat to bodies phiced above 
it." These discoveries and the Count's observations on his experiments were 
Ijublished in London in 1795, while he was on a visit to that city. The Elector 
would have liked to have had him stay there and act as Bavarian Minister, but 
that Count Rumford could not do. It was against the law for a Briton to I'epre- 
sent the interests of any other country than his own at Court. 

When the Elector died in the last year of the last century, Count Rumford 
left the Bavarian court, and, marrying the widow of Antoine Laurent Lavoisier, 
the great French chemist, in 1805, he spent the remainder of his life in Prance. 
These years were not filled with public duties, but were quietly spent in literary 
and scientific pursuits, and in the company of the most learned men and women 
of Europe. 

Beside his many other services to England, he formed the plan of and was in 
1800 the founder of the Royal Institution, the great scientific society of London, 
which has fostered the most eminent scliolars of this century, and has done more 
than any other institution in England for the development and the spread of scien- 
tific knowledge. 

Benjamin Thompson, Count Rumford, was born at Woburn, Massachusetts, 
March 26, 1753, or 1753. He died at Anteil, near Paris, August 31, 1814. 

When this century, now so near its close, was just dawning on the world, thei'e 
was a Scotchman named Alexander Wilson teaching school at Kingsessing, 
Pennsylvania, wlio in a few years told the world more about American birds 
than it had ever dreamed of before. He was then a man tliirty-four years 
old, who had been in tlie United States about six years, first employing himself at 
the loom— for he was a weaver by trade — and then at teaching school in this little 
town near Philadelphia. 

In his distant Scottisli home, he had not had a good education to begin with, 
but while working as a weaver's apprentice he had spent his evenings in study and 
verse- writing, so that he was quite fitted to teach. In those days it was not 
necessary for a man to be very learned to become a schoolmaster in America. 

One of the pleasantest things about this new situation was that it placed Mr. 
Wilson near the farm and the botanical gardens of William Bartram, a celebrated 
botanist of that time, wlio knew a great deal about natural history, especially 
birds. Wilson was glad of the first chance he could get to talk with this learned 
farmer, for from the very first he had been particularly interested in the birds he 
had seen in this country. He soon had many talks about their habits with Mr. 
Bartram, and in a very short time began to study them with the deepest en- 
thusiasm. First, though, he took up the general study of natural history. His 



350 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

pupils entered into his fondness most heartily. His room was crowded with the 
little four-footed animals, reptiles, and birds of the neighborhood, and all the boys 
throughout the country-side were on the lookout for rare specimens for the mas- 
ter, who was sure to reward them for a prize with a few coppers. 

It was soon plain that Mr. Wilson was no ordinary bird-lover, and that he was 
particularly g-ifted for that sort of study, wiiich is called ornitholog-y. In the year 
1803 the idea came to him of making" a book on American birds. He resolved to 
travel through the United States, getting specimens of all the birds he could find 
and making drawings of them. After that, he hoped that some w^ay would open 
to pay the costs of having all this which he should prepare made into a book, so 
that the whole world might know about the birds that lilled the country of the 
New World. At the time Dr. Wilson formed this plan he had just seventy-five 
cents in his pocket, but he wrote to Mr. Bradford, a Boston publisher, laying 
his plan before him, and was almost overcome with happiness in receiAing the 
answer that Mr. Bradford thought so well of it, that he would not only publish 
the work when it was done, but would furnish the author with what funds he would 
need to prepare it. 

The material for two volumes was almost finished then, for Mr. Wilson had 
already been several years at work. He had tramped over the country till he 
knew the habits and the peculiarities of almost all the birds of the Northern and 
Eastern States, and had drawings of them carefully made. Matters being agreed 
between the author and his publisher, the first book was brought out as soon as 
possible. This was in 1808, and with a sample copy under his arm, Mr. Wilson 
set out at once to seek " birds and subscribers," as he said. 

He was not the greatest success as a salesman, but as an ornithologist, or bird 
student, he now began to do some wonderful work. He not only found and studied 
new specimens for himself, but he cultivated the acquaintance of other bird-lovers 
whom he met in his travels, and getting them interested in his enterprise, before 
long he had the whole of the Eastern States stationed with sharp-eyed, intelligent 
foresters on the lookout for every bird, especially every strange bird, that spread 
its wings on the air of forest or meadow, hill or dale. One of Mr. Wilson's first 
tours was a foot journey through the trackless wilderness of Western New York. 
He was a lover of all nature, and in a poem called '' The Foresters " he gave a 
graphic account of this excursion. 

After having pretty thoroughly studied the birds of the Eastern States, he- 
started for the South. He walked to Pittsburg, and there buying a little boat he 
launched it upon the Ohio, to go by water to Cincinnati. The skiff, which he 
called the Oniithologist, was fitted out with some biscuits and cheese and a bottle 
of cordial — given to him liy a gentleman of Pittsburg — for provisions, wliile his 



Alexander Wilson. 351 

luggag-e consisted of a trunk, a greatcoat, and his g'un. These were stowed away 
in one end, while the devoted student sat alone in the other. His whole being- 
was filled with joy at the beauty that began to unfold before him, and at the 
novel situation he was in. This, too, is all described in an interesting account of 
the pleasures and varied experiences of twenty-one days of sailing over the dis- 
tance of five hundred miles of the noble river (^hio. After a short stay in Cincin- 
nati, he crossed the river to the Kentucky shore, and made his waj^ to Nashville, 




Alexander Wilson. 

Tennessee. Stopping here for a few days, he made drawings of all the birds her 
had seen and got ready for a long trip alone through the wilderness. Many people 
advised him against taking this journey, but feeling sure that for the most part the 
stories of the dangers he should meet were exaggerated, he kept on in his purpose, 
and set out in the early part of May. He had equipped himself well. His horse was 
a fine, trustworthy animal ; a loaded pistol was stuck in each pocket,, a loaded fowl- 
ing-piece hung across his shoulder, and in his belt was plenty of shot, while his 
flask held a pound of gunpowder. In arms and ammunition he was prepared for 



■352 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

all the birds, beasts, or Indians he would be likely to see. For his food he carried 
some dried beef and biscuit. He reached Natchez and even New Orleans quite 
safe from all the dangers he had been warned of, and well ladened with materials 
for his work, thou<^'h he had not found many subscribers. 

It was about the first of July that he reached the great port of the Mississippi, 
and as the fever season was near at hand, he soon took passage for New York, 
and from there i-eturned to Philadelphia. 

He set to work at once to finish his books, and completed the eighth volume by 
midsummer. It was a grand task, wonderfully executed. In a little moi'e than 
seven years he had by his own industry, courage, and talents — almost unaided — 
done more than all the naturalists of Europe had accomplished during a whole 
century. It was a great, original work, for while none of the two hundred and 
seventy-five birds in his " Ornithology " were thoroughly known before his time, 
there were fifty-six kinds that no naturalist had ever before taken any notice of. 
It was a task be^'ond the abilitj^ of most men, and beyond the strength of Mr. 
Wilson, though he was yet in middle life. He had scarcely finished preparing 
the eighth volume for the publisher before his health gave way entirely and death 
came very soon. There was still material for two more volumes, which were 
edited and published after his death, and ten years later the work was continued 
by four more volumes prepared by Charles Lucien Bonaparte, who beside being 
a Fi'ench prince, was an eminent naturalist, and lived for some time in Philadel- 
|)iua. So, in addition to the value of Mr. Wilson's works in themselves, the 
" American Ornithology " opened the way for the labors of other naturalists, who 
have completely and perfectly covered the subject of the birds of this continent. 

Alexander Wilson was born at Paisley, Scotland, July G, 1766. He died in 
Philadelphia August 23, 1813. 

Baron Cuvier, the great French naturalist, once said that the most mag- 
nificent monument that art has ever set up to the study of birds is the work of 
Joliii Jiiines Audubon. This author, painter, and naturalist was the son of 
a planter who had been an admiral in the French navy, and was born in Louisiana 
the year before the close of the Independence War in America. He was sent to 
Paris to be educated when he was about fifteen years old, and there studied de- 
signing in the school of the celebrated historical painter, Jacques Louis David. 
But he was glad to come back to his own countr^^ in about three years, for there 
was no trait stronger in John Audubon's nature than his love for the streams and 
forests of his native land, and the birds and animals that lived in them. He mai"- 
ried soon after his retui-n, and receiving from his father a beautiful plantation on 
the banks of the Schuylkill in Pennsylvania, he settled down to become a farmer. 



John James Audubon. 



353 



Mrs. Aiiduboii appreciated her husband's love for nature, and when after a few 
yeai's he spent months and even years in wandering- through the grand and lonely 
forests of Pennsylvania, she met him from time to time, cheered and encouraged 
him and gave him money. Without her aid he could never have succeeded in the 
work that he finally undertook. While others felt that he might better stay at 
home and mind his farm and familj'^, she seems to have understood that there 




John James Audubon. 

was a greatness in his mind that led him off upon these trips to study nature and 
sketch the dwellers of the lonelj^ woods which would some day prove itself to all. 
He always took his pencil and paints with him and made careful color studies of 
all the birds he could find. He was one of the most skilful painters we have ever 
had, although his gifts were only shown in bird pictures. 

After a while the Audubons decided to go further west, where Mr. Audubon 
could be near his wife and the little child thej' had, without having to give up his 



354 One Hnndred Famous Americans. 

life in the forests. So, in the autumn of 1810, they floated down the Ohio in an 
open skiff, taking- two negroes and their household goods with them, and settled 
in the village of Henderson, Kentucky, for their new home. " Day after day, with 
his dog, g-un, and hox of pencils and colors, he made excursions, now shooting- 
down a bird, now carefully picturing its form and colors, again peering- into a nest 
or scaling- a clitf, for hours watching- the conduct of a pair of hirds, and jotting- 
down in a note-hook all that he saw them do, where he found them, what and how 
they ate, huilt their nests, cared for their young-. Over streams, through tangled 
hrushwood, amid swamps, and in stony ravines, in storm, sunshine, and starlight, 
with unwearied feet and uncooled enthusiasm, he watched the habits and the vary- 
ing plumag(? and the whole life of the feathered creatures that live in America, 
north and south, east and west, with no companions but the wild beast, the 
Indian, and the birds which he studied, to watch his curious labors." 

What was it all for ? A love of nature. From the time that Audubon was a 
little boy, the song- and the plumage of birds delighted him. His father, an edu- 
cated gentleman and a naturalist, encouraged this taste in him. He used often to 
walk with him through the country, describing the life of the birds in the woods, 
telling their peculiarities, and teaching- his little son to notice the differences in 
them, and pointing out how one belonged to one kind and another to another, on 
account of this trait or that. Soon after moving to Kentucky, Mr. Audubon m^t 
Alexander Wilson, who was then in the midst of his labors; and and many years 
later he became acquainted with Charles Lucien Bonaparte. These tw^o men in- 
fluenced the course of his own work very nmcli, especially Bonaparte, who saw of 
what great value Audubon's work would be to the w^orld, and offered to buy his 
drawings, and talked to Audubon about bringing them before the public. 

Until this time, the idea of publishing what he had learned of nature, and be- 
coming famous through his labors, had never come to him. This was in 1824 ; 
two years more he spent in further study in the woods, and in getting- diis draw- 
ings and notes ready to be made into a book ; then he started for London to see 
what arrangements he could make. When he landed he was filled with hopes 
and doubts. With no influence, little money, and being a stranger in a land of so 
many eminent scholars, he was fearful that he had gone there in vain. But his 
doubts were soon scattered, for the moment his work was seen, not London alone, 
but the great scholars of Edinburgh, of Paris, Berlin, and all Europe, assured him 
of its value, and cheered and aided liim with their influence and friendship. His own 
countrymen too, saw the importance of his studies more quickly than that of 
many specialists is recognized, and altogether a hundred and seventy people sub- 
scribed a thousand dollars each for a copy of the " Birds of America." 

The monarchs of England and France headed the list of subscribers, and the- 



John James Audubon. ' 355 

greatest natural histor^^ scholars in the world welcomed him as their equal, and 
encouraged him to publish his work. So he remained in Europe for several 
years. When he came back it was only for a short stay while he explored the 
coasts, the lakes, the rivers, and the mountains, from Labrador and Canada to 
Florida, so as to add the water fowls to his portfolio. Then he went back to 
superintend the publishing of the l)ook. 

The plates of the birds were life-size, with wonderfully line and accurate repre- 
sentations of the forms, colors, attitudes, and expression of both male and female 
— little ones and grown-up ones grouped together — showing their plumage at dif- 
ferent seasons, the vegetation they prefer, the soil, the food, sometimes the hab- 
its, and often the prey of each bird ; the sm'i'oundings were a faithful represent- 
ation of the landscape, the bare cliffs, the shores of sea or stream which the creat- 
ures make their favorite haunts. These were excelleut, finished pictures, the 
work of a patient artist who had labored again and again over a single picture, 
destroying one attempt after another as long as he could find a defect in drawing 
or coloring that jarred against the artist, or a single mistake that challenged the 
keen criticism of the ornithologist. The reading matter was scarcely less impor- 
tant than the plates. In easy and enthusiastic lang-uage he described the appear- 
ance and the life of the birds as he saw them himself when secretly watching them 
by the hour in their lonely homes, and following- their lead in the passages from 
one climate to another at the change of seasons. It is not a set of diy and formal 
chapters, hard names, and bare descriptions ; but along with the careful and accu- 
rate accounts that make the work of the greatest scientific value, there are bright 
stories of his personal adventures, sketches of scenery, and interesting- accounts 
of the habits and traits of out-of-the-way people whom he came across in his 
journeyings. 

Altogether the work makes five folio volumes of colored engravings, illustrating 
about one thousand and sixty-five species of birds, all of the natural size ; and five 
volumes of printed matter. The books are about as large as the sheet of a single 
newspaper doubled once. It is the finest work on birds that has ever been pub- 
lished ; and the greatest naturalists of France generously declared that in the 
" Birds of Anlerica " Audubon had achieved a work that had no equal in all Europe. 

When it was completed the famous author brought his family to a home on 
the Hudson, near New York City, where he still kept at work. He was now 
about sixty years old, and had two able sons who helped him a great deal. He 
made a cheaper edition of the " Birds " in seven volumes, with all the engravings 
carefully reduced, or made of smaller size ; and after this was brought out, he went 
again to the fields and forests, the mountains and the swamps, now in company 
with his two sons — to gather descriptions and make drawings for the "■ Quadrupeds 



35() • Otie Hundred Famous Americans. 

of America," Avliieli is as noble a work upon the four-footed animals of the New 
World as tlie first one upon its bii'ds. At the end of all the labors of getting- 
thi'ough the press this great work, Avhieh made three volumes of plates and three 
volumes of prinling, Mr. Audubon — now seventy years old — rested from toil and 
hardship in the happy, loving atmosphere of his home and family ; for he was a 
genius who was honored in his own house. 

All this vast amount of work was not done without a great many trials and 
losses : but -whenever specimens or drawings were lost— even though it would take 
yeai's to i-eplace them — or when, as in the panic of 1837, subscribers were unable 
to buy his books, oi- whatever disaster and discouragement fell upon him — and he 
seemed to have moi'e than most men's share — he ahvays met his troubles cheer- 
fully, calmly, and bravely, shoAving a sublime heroism tliat only belongs to natures 
that are truly great. 

The great Professor Wilson, of Edinburgli, said of Mr. Audul)on as a man : " He 
is just what you would exjiect from his woi'k, full of line enthusiasm and intelli- 
gence, most interesting in his looks and manners."' He had a high arched brow, 
dark gray e^'es, and a bright, courageous, happy temper ; and was " esteemed bj" 
all who know him for the simplicity and frankness of his nature. He is the great- 
est ai-tist, in his own walk, that ever lived." 

John James Audubon was born at New Orleans, Louisiana, May 4, 1T80. He 
died at his home near New York City, January 27, 1851. 

The eider Beiijaniiii Silliman was one of the first and greatest of Amer- 
ican scientists. His son and namesake is also an eminent man, especially in chem- 
istry, and has added very much to liis father's important labors in science both 
for Yale College and the world ; but the first Professor Silliman is particularly 
honored as a pioneer worker Avhen science was little studied and still less appre- 
ciated in Amei'ica. He was but one year older than Mi'. Audubon, and while the 
great naturalist was studying art in David's studio at Paris, he was taking the 
regular course at Yale College, where he soon became a tutor and then a profes- 
sor. But before taking this last position, he devoted two years to studying chem- 
istiy in Philadelphia. When he was twenty-five years old, he began his lectures 
to the students at New Haven, and opened a long career of fifty years that was 
honorable to himself and the college, and of vast importance to science. His fame 
s])i'ead be_\-ond the city of New Haven ; students came to hear him from all parts 
of the country ; and it was before them that he was always at his best, more full 
of enthusiasm in his subject, more alive with sympathj^ in the ambitions of his 
young friends, and more clear and eloquent in his explanations, than he ever ap- 
peared in any other place. 



Benjamin SiUiiiutn. 



.>0( 



During' the next ten years, Professor Silliman's life was an earnest and l)usy 
one. At intervals between his lecturing- and laboratory work at Yale, he went to 
Europe and wrote two volumes about what he saw there, in a " Journal of Trav- 
els in England, Holland, and Scotland " — a very popular and interesting- book.r 
He also made a geological survey of a part of Connecticut, and made an important 





'■^^^XnY^-I"^ 



Benjamin Silliman. 



contribution to science by analyzing- a stone that fell from the sky. This meteor- 
ite — as such stones are called — ^was found in "Weston, Connecticut, and attracted 
a great deal of attention : and it was a matter of great importance when Profes- 
sor Silliman found out of what it was composed. 

In the year 1818 he began to publish a scientific magazine which he called 
The American Journal of Seience and Arts, but which is better known as " Silli- 
man's Journal." It is the best as well as the oldest journal of its kind in this 



358 One Hurjilred Famous Anier/c(i>is. 

country ; for more tliaii lialf a century tlic siliolai-s of Eui-ope and America have 
looked to it lor record and description of all the new and important discoveries 
made by our scientists ; and its back mind)ers are a hbrary of some of tlie best 
papers ever written upon the great scientific attainments of the ag-e. 

In the latter years of his life Professor Sillimaii went again to Europe and 
wrote two volumes about his trip. These were as much read and as popular as 
the ''Journals" of his first visit. He had a faculty foi' interesting- people in all 
that he wrote oi' said. Those who were not scientists enjoyed science as he talked 
al)(»ut it . and when he gave some courses of j)opu]ar lectures on geology and chem- 
istry, in different large cities of the United States, they were always attended by 
large audiences. 

Though his whole life was devoted to science and teaching, he was also deeply 
interested in public affairs, especially in the cause of libert3\ When the great 
trouble arose in Kansas, he came out boldly and forcibly in opposition to slavery, 
alt houg-h lie was then seventy' -eight years old. He resigned from his position in the 
college a few years before this time, but New Haven was still his home ; and there, 
whei'e he was best known, he was honored and reverenced by all, foi" his gTcatness 
in science, his noble character, and many virtues consistent with his simple faith in 
Christianity. 

Benjamin Silliman, Sr., was boi-n in North Stratford (now Trumbull), Connecti- 
cut. August 8, 1779. He died in New Haven, in the same State, November 24, 1864. 

Professoi' SilHiuan's great successors at Yale and as editors of his Journal 
have been his son, Beiijainin Silliinaii, Jr., and his son-in-law, James 
DwightDana. 

The younger Professor Silliman was born at New Haven, and graduated from 
Yale wlien he was twenty-one. After teaching- chemistry there for a number of 
years he became a regular professor of that science, and in about eight years took 
the still more important chair madt^ vacant by his father's resignation. He be- 
came associate editor of the Journal soon after his g-raduation, and is now chief 
editor with Pi-ofessor Dana. Like his father, he is the author of several important 
books on chemistry, and in that branch of science ranks as one of the most impoi'- 
tant scholars in this country. 

James J>wig:ht Dana is famous throughout this country as a master of 
the three extensive departments of knowledge that treat of the sciences of miner- 
als : of the earth, or geology ; and of natui-al history, or zoolog-y. Always fond 
of this sort of study, he was attracted to Yale by the fame of the elder Silliman, 
and when he was seventeen years old he left liis home in New York State to study 
under hiiu. Since then his life has been mostly spent in the " City of Elms." 



James Divight Daiui. 



359 



About the time he graduated, he was appointed teacher of mathematics to 
midshipmen in the navy of the United States, and in the ship of war Delmvare he 
sailed to the Mediterranean Sea. After returning from this voyage, he first be- 
came assistant to the distinguished professoi-, wlio had so much influence on his 




James Dwight Dana. 

hfe from the first, whose daughter lie afterward married, and whom he finally- 
succeeded — in part with his son — in both his college and his editorial work. 

But these events did not follow at once. After a couple of years with his pro- 
fessor he left New Haven to act as mineralogist and geologist on the United. 
States exploring expedition that, under Captain Wilkes, was sent around the 
world. The discoveries on this trip and many observations made elsewhere were 



360 One Hundred Fatuous Americans. 

piiblisliod afhM- his return ; whilo just iH'l'orc slartiiii^- out ho liad made a first edi- 
tion ol" his ;^reatesti work, tlie " Manual of Mineralogy and Geology." This is 
the g'l-eatest and best \vori< of its kind that has ever been published in this coun- 
try, and is looked ui)on as a standaixl authority both in Europe and in America. 
Professor Dana has enlarged and revised it several times, the last edition being- 
brought out about ten years ago. 

He is now'a venerable and highly honoi'ed man, a member of the great Academy 
of Sciences in Berlin, (Germany, and of many other learned societies in both the 
Old World and the New. Those who can best understand his abilities say that be- 
side the close and accurate powers of observation that are necessary to every stu- 
dent of nature, he also ranks among the very foremost of philosophic naturalists. 
His books on geology and minerals not only coven- the gr<'at systems of those 
branches of science— in which they ai-e the standard works of reference and school- 
books — but also include several valuable volumes on special branches of the great 
subjects he has so well mastered, one of the most interesting of which is the 
" Corals and Coral Islands" that was published about fourteen years ago. 

Professor Dana was born at Utica, New York, Febi-uary 12, 181 ;5. He is still 
living at New Haven, Connecticut. 

Among the many other learned ukmi of this age whose labors have been chiefly 
within the walls of Yale College are ex-Pi-esident Woolsey and Pi-ofessor Whit- 
ney. The venerabh^ figure of Theodore Dwiglit Woolsey, but slightly bent 
with the weight of eight}'- six years, is still seen in the college chapel on Sunday 
mornings. He is a Doctor of Divinity and a Doctor of Laws. He is especially 
learned in theology, which he studied at Princeton, and in Greek, which he began 
to teach at Yale w^hen he w^as a young- man of thirty, and on which he has written 
some very valuable books. He was only forty-five years old wlien he was made 
president of the college, and when, at the age of seventy, he resigned, it w^as be- 
lieved by students, teachers, professors and patrons, that his administration 
mai-ked one of the greatest quarter-centuries in t iu^ history of the college. All 
regretted to have him leave his post, for, ag(Hl as he was, his mind did not show 
the slightest sign of failing power; and it seems >et as forcible, rich, and active 
as wluMi he was in the prime of life. 

Ex- President Woolsey was l)oi-n in Ncav York City, October 31, 1801. 

The fame of Williani Dvvight Whitney is chiefiy as a master of languages. 
In this science — which is called philology — he is said to have only one equal in the 
world. That is Professor Max Miiller, of Gei'many. Both of them are particu- 
larly noted for their knowledge of the Oriental languages. 



Joseph Henry. 3GI 

Professor Whitney was not a student at Yale, as Avas Pi-esident Woolsey. He 
graduated from Williams College, and then went to Berlin and to Tiibingen, 
wliere he gained vast stores of knowledge on Sanskrit and other languages, whicli 
the trustees of New Haven asked liim to use for the benefit of their college, on his 
return to tliis country. Tliis was in the year 1854, when he was twenty-seven 
years old ; he is now about sixty, full of honors for his life-long devotion to study 
and teaching. Much of his time has also been given to writing. He has contrib- 
uted valuable articles to the learned journals and the leading popular magazines 
of this country; he has written for Appletons' " New American Cj'clopcedia," 
and the great Sanskrit Dictionary now being published in Russia; and on his 
own account has prepared German grammars, readers, and a dictionary which 
are used by many students in all parts of the United States. He has been richly 
gifted with the qualities that are necessary to the mind of a profound scholar — 
clear insight, soiuid judgment, and accurate, deep, and vai-ied learning. Honors 
and degrees of many kinds have been bestowed upon him at liome and abroad, and 
some of the greatest philological societies in the world reckon him as one of their 
most able and useful members. 

Professor Whitney was born at Northampton, Massachusetts, February 9, 
1827. 

One of the greatest of the world's pioneers in natui-al science was the pro- 
found scholar, successful teacher, and noble gentleman, Joseph Henry. 
Abr-oad he is best known for his discoveries in electricity. In America his name 
will always be linked with Princeton College, where he was Professor of Natui-al 
Philosophy, and with the Smithsonian Institution at Washington, of which he was 
manager for- thirty-two years, f r-om the prime of his life to its close. 

A native of Albany, New York, he was born shortl\- before the beginning of this- 
century, and growing rapidl}' With its swift progress, he soon began to mark the 
age with the results of his studies and investigations. It has been said that he- 
exerted a more enduring and wide-spread influence upon the progress of American 
science than any man of his generation. 

He came from a humble Scotch famil\', whose ancestry is not known, and Ik.' 
never had a single blood relation of intellectual prominence. It is not even known 
just when he came into the world. His father died when he was still very young ; 
and he was only a boy when he lost his mother, also. At the age of seven he- 
was taken to live with his grandmother at Galway, near Saratoga. The great 
advantages that are carefidly placed before some boys, Joseph Henry knew noth- 
ing about. He went to the village school for a little while and began secretly to 
read the romances and dramas in the village library, to which he accidentally 



362 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

obtained access. This life at his graiuVniotlier's went on till lie was no long-er 
little Joseph, but a growing- lad of fourteen. He was old enougli then, it 
was thoug-ht, to begin to earn his living-, so he went back to Albany and was 
apprenticed to learn the jewelei-'s trade. He worked at this for two years, but 
happening one time to get posscvssion of a copy of Robinson's " Mechanical Phi- 
losophy," his thoug-hts were turned in an entirely new direction. Suddenly a 
taste for natural philosophy woke up Avithin him, and he soon became a student of 
sciences at the Albany Academy, then in charge of T. Romeyn Beck, the noted 
])hysician and scientist . 

Henr3" soon proved a faithful and an able student. His progress and his gen- 
ei-al character so pleased Dr. Beck that he obtained for him a place as tutor in 
one of the first families in the city. These duties took three hours of each day, and 
the rest of his time was spent in assisting- Dr. Beck in his chemical mvestigations 
and studying- anatomy and physiology, for he was then studying- a course in med- 
ic-ine. He did not follow this out, though, for his health became poor and he 
thoug-ht he had better undertake some out-of-door work. After a year of survey- 
ing in the western part of New York, he returned quite well again, and then 
went back to the academy as one of its professoi-s. 

It was while filling the pleasant duties of this position that he beg-an " the brill- 
iant series of researches in electricity on which his purely scientific reputation 
])rincipally rests, and which culminated hi the discovery of the Morse telegraph." 
His apparatus was so poor antl his means for research and publication so limited 
compared to the importance of the lesults he obtained, that he has been placed 
beside Faraday as an experimentalist. " He was the onlj^ discoverer of one of the 
most sing-ular forms of electi'ical induction, and was among the first — perhaps he 
was the very first — to see clearly the laws which connect the transmission of elec- 
tricity with the power of the battery employed." He then devoted himself to 
linding the wa^' to produce mechanical effects at a great distance by the aid of an 
electro-magnet and conducting- wire. " The horseshoe electro-magnet, formed by 
winding copper wire around a bar of iron bent into the form of a V, had been 
known before this time, and it was also known that by increasing- the number of 
coils of wire greater force could be given to the magnet if the latter were near the 
l>attery. But when it w^as removed to a distance the power was found to weaken 
at so rapid a rate that the idea of using the electro-mag-net for telegraphic pur- 
poses seemed hopeless." Mr. Henry made up his mind to make one experiment 
after another until he should discover what were the reasons that the power g-rew 
less in that way. His success was truly wonderful. He invented the first ma- 
chine which is moved by electro-magnetism, and used it to sliow that a self-acting 
and moving- — or what is called oscillating- — iron bar inclosed in insulated coi)per 



Joseph Henry. 



363 



wire would keep moving or oscillating- as long- as the magnetic force was applied. 
He discovered a relation between the number of coils of wire round the electro- 
niag-net and the construction of the battery to work it, and showed that the very 
same amount of acid and zinc would produce entirely different effects when 
arranged in different ways, and that by increasing- the number of cells in the bat- 




JosEPH Henry. 

tery there was no limit to the distance at which its effects might be felt. He also 
showed the remarkable power that may be produced by a small galvanic appa- 
i-atus, exhibiting in 1829 some electro-magnets of far greater power than any 
ever before tried. There was one w'hich took up only a cubic foot of battery space 
and was capable of supporting- between three and four thousand pounds. By this 
time he was regarded as one of the greatest students and discoverers in electricity 
that the world had seen since the days of Benjamin Franklin. He became a 



364 One Hundred Famous Atnericans. 

writer for* the leading- scientific joiu'nals, and devoted a i^-reat deal of time to hard 
labor and close investigation. 

The idea of malting- signals at a distance witli the aid of electricity was in his 
mind for a long- time before the teleg'i-aph was thoug-ht of. He succeeded in ring-- 
ing- a bell by electricity- at tlie end of a ^vire a mile long-, in 1832 — the yeai- before 
Professor Morse made that memorable voyag-e on the packet Sully, during- which 
he first thoug-ht of his invention. These experiments laid the scientific founda- 
tion of tlie electric teleg-raph, which was merely completed for practical use when 
Professor Morse invented an instrument by which the effects of the battery were 
made to reg'ister in a system of sig-ns that could be understood by all operators. 
Professor Henry even had the idea of making- communications with distant points 
by means of mag-netism, although his plan was not the same as that which Profes- 
sor Morse conceived and reduced to a practical invention. 

The year after Mr. Henry published an account of these important discoveries, 
he was asked to become Professor of Natural Philosophy' in the College of New Jer- 
sey at Princeton. Althoug-h he had so modest an opinion of himself that he ac- 
cepted this position with a great deal of diffidence, he was altogether worthy of 
the honor, both as a gentleman and as a teacher of science. His dignified, manly 
bearing, and refined, intellectual face marked his appearance among other men ; 
and in whatever society he was found his pure, genial humor, delicate taste, ready 
story-telling, and good manners made him a valuable member. His nature was 
generous through and through. Even though he did so much great and original 
work which merits the highest honor, he never was known to harbor any ill and 
personal feeling against those who wronged him. He had a full share of rivals 
and enemies, and onc(; or twice he had to request an investigation of charges 
brought against him, chiefly by other scientists ; but he always did this with the 
fairest, most courteous spirit, simply asking to have the case understood and the 
matter fairly dealt with. In all the controversies that arose, in which his name 
was sometimes associated, he never, it is said, took the slightest part. / 

The change from the comparatively small academy at Albany to the great! 
college at Princeton was of vast importance to Pi'ofessor Henry's work. It gave 
him much better opportunities to cari-y on his researches. " He found congenial 
societj^, a large and appreciative circle of listeners, large additions to his supply 
of apparatus, and a scientific society glad to publish his i-esearches. Before this 
his publications were mostly confined to papers in Si'llinKdi's Journal. The Trans- 
actions of the American Philosophical Society now affoi'ded liim room for much 
more extended accounts of his investigations, and enabled him verj^ soon to acquire 
an European reputation." 

Five years after he made this most advantageous change, he visited Europe 



Joseph He)irij. 365 

and made the acquaintance of Faraday, Wlieatstone, Bailey, and other eminent 
physicists, discussing- with Wheatstone the projects for an electric telegraph in 
England. This visit seemed to greatly freshen his mind and give him new life for 
liis work ; when he i-eturned he took up his lectures with greater zest than ever, 
and held his place as the foremost of American scientific teachers until 1846, 
when he w^as called to an entirely different oixlei- of woi'k. 

" Ten years before Cong-ress had accepted by a solemn act the cuiious bequest — 
in all amounting to more than five hundred and for-ty thousand dollars — g-iven by 
James Smithson to the United States in trust, ' to found at Washington an estal)- 
lishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men.' This will g-ave 
no indication whatever to the details of the proposed establishment, and long- con- 
sideration was therefore necessary before the Government could decide upon its 
org-anization.'' When, at last, this was done. Professor Henry was picked out as 
better fitted than any other man in the country to be placed at the head of the 
Smithsonian Institution. He was asked to become secretary and chief director, 
and, after much thought, he accepted the position with " reluctance, fear, and 
trembling-.*' 

He undertook his new duties with a great deal of earnestness and enthusiasm, 
and it is due to him more than to any other person that the nation has to-day so 
excellent and perfect an institution to carry out Mr. Sniithson's will. Professor 
Henry drew up a scheme for the regents — who are governors of the Institution 
appointed by the United States Government — which was cordially adopted and 
has been in use ever since. It is therefore his idea that the Institution takes up 
no work done by any other institution, and, confining itself to its own special line, 
is devoted in the best possible way to increasing- and diffusing- knowledg-e. As 
soon as any other department of the Government was ready to continue any of the 
researches of the Institution with a prospect of success, he turned them over to it, 
so that the Smithsonian might be always free to put its labor into new and unique 
fields. Tliere are no collections in it that could be placed in anothei' department, 
and it carries on no work similar to that of any other national institution. Thus, 
it keeps ever pushing- onward to increase the sum of human knowledge — which it 
scatters without cost to all who wish to learn from it. 

The London Times said a short time ago that the Smithsonian Institution 
afforded a better course of ethnological teaching- — the study of the human races 
based on primitive relics— than can be had anywhere else in the world. In a bus- 
iness point of view, the Institution has been managed with g-reat skill and success. 
While Professor Henry was shaping- its policy and deciding- upon its object, 
■making- rare collections, pushing- investigations, and raising- buildings in which to 
keep them, its finances were so managed that all his plans have been matured and 



366 One Hundred Faitioufi Americans. 

many thousand dollars of the fund still preserved. While engag-ed in the g-reat 
labors of this position, Professor Henry also carried on much other scientific 
work. At different times he held the office of president in both the Aniei-ican Asso- 
ciation for the Advancement of Science and the National Academy; of Sciences. 
His writing-s were also kei)t up meanwliile, and were published in the famous sci- 
entific paper, Silliman's Journal, and other leading- periodicals. In addition to 
them, he prepared the reports of the Smithsonian Institution, which are among- the 
most useful and important papers on education published in this country. 

In the latter years of his life he was at the head of the Lightliouse Board, and 
then broug-ht forward some valuable improvements in American sea-lig-hts and 
beacons ; and when the Sig'nal Service was started his knowledg-e and skill were 
of the g-reatest help. No one else was so often and so regularly consulted as he 
by the Government on all questions where the knowledge of a scientist was neces- 
sary. He orig-inated the idea of using- the teleg-raph for sending- out the weather 
repoi'ts to different parts of the country from the Observation Bureau at Wash- 
ing-ton, and put it in operation at the Institution soon after he became connected 
with it. His services to the Government in many capacities, especially in that of 
a. member of the Lig-hthouse Board — where his experiments saved it hundreds of 
tliousands of dollars-:-were entirely free. His salary was paid from the Smith- 
«onian bequest, and he never asked the Government for the payment of a dollar for 
all the work he did for it. 

This is but one case of many that showed the hig'h principles that ruled his 
life. His labors were devoted entirely to the cause of science and education — for 
the g-ood of the world ; he worked without thinking- of making- money for liim- 
self, and although he was placed in a position where he had g-reat temptations 
constantly offered him to lend the use of his name to merchants and manufacturers 
as an advertisement, there was never the shadow of a suspicion resting- upon him. 

Professor Henry was born in Albany, New York, in about the year 1797. He 
died at W^ashington, May i;5, 1878. , 

While Joseph Heni;^' was laboring in the Smithsonian Institution, one of 
the most notcnl scientific imm in the regular employ of the Government was 
Matthew Fouutaiiie Maury. He was what is called a hydrographer — 
that is, one who draws maps and makes explorations of the sea, lakes, and other 
waters, with their adjacent shores. 

Professor Maur^^ was about eight years younger than Professor Henry, and had 
been in the United States Navy from the time he was about nineteen years old. 
He entered as a midshipman in the stanch new Government frigate Lafayette, that 
carried the great Fi-ench general— the nation's visitor — back to his native land. 



Matthew Fountaine Maury, 



367 



After the vessel had parted with her disting-uished g-uest she made a voyag-e 
to the Pacific, and after that young- Maury made a trip around the g-lobe in the 
United States vessel Vincennes. Already he began to closel}'' study the sea and 
the ships that sail thereon, and wrote a " Treatise on Navigation," which was so 
valuable that a number of editions of it sold. 

In 1836, when he was thirty years old, he was raised to the rank of lieutenant, 
and was appointed to the South Sea exploring expedition, in charge of Commodore 




Matthew B'ouxtaine SIaury. 

Wilkes. But meeting- with an accident that made him lame, lie had to give up 
this prospect and leave the sea service. Then he was put in charge of the Depart- 
ment of Sea-charts and Instruments at Washington, and he found new duties that 
made up for the loss his misfortune had cost him. After awhile this was com-^ 
bined with the Washington Observatory, and Lieutenant Maury was placed at the 
head of both. 

His labors here were careful, systematic, and far-i-eaching ; they were to ex- 
amine the reports of vessels and special cruises, to direct observations on currents. 



3GS One Hundred Faniou.s Americans. 

tides, and soimdiii^-s, to carry on scientific experiments and investig-ations, and to 
fultlll many other duties for which few men in tlie world have the ability of mind. 
He performed them all so well that he soon rose to eminent rank among- the 
learned men of his time, and was acknowledg-ed at home and abroad to be doing' 
a woi'k of untold benefit to the conimei-ce of tlie world. Fi'oni the actual reports 
of vessels and special cruises, he made his well-knowai and useful " Physical Ge- 
ography of the Sea,'' with ol)servations of ocean winds and currents. His next 
important undertaking' was preparing' and publishing' his views on the Gulf Stream, 
ocean currents, and great circle-sailing-, wiiich have g-enerally proved to be well 
g-rounded. 

It was his idea to call the meeting- of the Genei'al Maritime Conference, 
which was held at Berlin, Prussia, in 1853. This was a gathering- of men 
belonging' to the different nations of the world, w^ho by experience and stud^' could 
bi'ing- valuable infoi'ination in reg-ard to navigation. The recommendation that 
merchant and w^ar vessels should keep an abstract record called the vessel's " log-," 
was made at this meeting-, as a plan that would be of g-reat service to maritime 
science. It has been probably one of the most impoi-tant customs ever taken up in 
the history of navigation. Lieutenant Mauiy's " Physical Geography of the Sea 
and its Meteorology "is so valuable a w^ork that it is looked upon as a standard 
authority. It has been revised and enlarged several times to take in the new 
discoveries made, and holds an important place among the best works of its kind 
that have ever been issued. 

Two years after the conference at Berlin, he was made Commander of the 
United States Nav}'. But, ))eing a Southernei-, when the Civil War broke out — 
six 3^ears later — he gave up the post and became commodore in the navy of the 
Confederates. 

After the war, he became a Professor of Ph^-sics in the Virginia Military In- 
stitute. He was highly honoi-ed for his learning and the services it i-endered to 
science, and beside being a member of many of the chief scientific societies of this 
country and Europe, many high testimonials were given him by foreign g-overn- 
ments. 

Professor Maury was born in Spottsylvania County, Virginia, January 14, 
1800. He died at Lexington, Virginia, February 1, 1873. 

As our countryman, Benjamin Thompson, deserves a place among great Eu- 
ropeans, so also are there many foi-eigners who, having made this their adopted 
country, have done great work here and take rank along with the most famous 
of native Americans. 

Of these was one of the most important men of this century, the Swiss 



Louis John Rudolf Agassiz. 



369 



scientist, Louis John Rudolf Agassiz. He studied and understood the 
powers, the causes, and the laws of thhig's, and more than that, he made the study 
of science popular. He found people who w^ere willing- enough to admire or 
wonder at a glacier or a fossil, but few who thought of studying about them — 
how they are caused, what they are, what they do, and w^hat they become. He 
found people Avho would read of these things, look at them, talk about them, 
but never think about them, or actually study them. So he clearly showed 
such people how little they knew of science, or appreciated it ; and, at the same 




Louis John Rudolf Agassiz. 

time, he interested them in the great subject and led them to respect those who 
devote their lives to it. 

Mr. Agassiz received a careful education. He Avas fond of study, and almost 
without knowing it, he laid the foundation for becoming a scientist while he was a 
boy and a young man, studying in the schools and universities of Switzerland and 
Germany, and, later, in Vienna. He was deeply in earnest ; he thought as well as 
studied ; he traveled and observed. To Mr. Agassiz, to observe meant to use his 
eyes and all the faculties behind them every time he looked at anything. He was 
young when he became famous for his knowledge of fossil and fresh- water fish, 
from a w^ork written in Latin and published before he was twenty-five years old. 



S70 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

About a year after this was completed, he became Professor of Natural History, 
or Zoology, at Neufchatel, near his native town. 

About this time he also began to publish some works about the fishes of the 
past and present in Central Eui'ope, which he had been studying- for several years, 
while on vacation-tramps through many countries. His books were read by some 
of the leading scientists of the Continent, and many of the additions and new ar- 
rangements in the species, orders, and classes of fishes that his discoveries led him 
to make, were accepted as decidedly- ahead of the classifications of Cuvier and 
other older writers. He also became one of tlie most important contiibutors to 
the scientific journals, setting forth new and valuable ideas and recent knoAvledg*e 
upon fishes and upon geology. Meanwhile he became interested in glaciers, and 
traveled a g-reat deal to study them, and at the same time to investigate the nat- 
ural history of past ages as he found it in fossils. His success in this ; and two 
important new works upon glaciers that he brought out added still more to his 
fame and brought him before the whole world. 

In 1846 he came to this country to lecture in Boston, and to fill a commission 
from the King- of Prussia to examine the g-eology and natural histor^^ of the United 
States. At that time Mr. Agassiz did not think of makhig his home here, but he 
became at last so attached to this country that the richest offers of the monarchs 
of Europe could not induce him to leave it. The people here found him delightful 
company and a very able and agreeable teacher. So, the next year, the Lawrence 
Scientific School was founded at Cambridge by Abbott Lawrence, the g'l^eat Bos- 
ton merchant, as a branch of Harvard University, and the distinguished Swiss 
scientist was asked to accept the professorship. The Prussian Government re- 
leased him and he accepted. 

He was then forty years old, a man of courteous manners, generous and honest 
feelings, at work for the highest use of his profession, not for himself. In addition 
to his teaching-, he kept on with his study and investigation, sharing what he 
found out with any who wished to learn from him both by lecturing- and in writ- 
ing's. He was always at work, patient and persevering against any disappoint- 
ments, for his life was not all on the smooth road. He used to say, "I cannot 
understand how anybody should be idle, or should have time hang on his hands. 
There is never a moment, except when I am asleep, that I am not joyfully occu- 
pied." ' 

One time, when he was very busy studying out some deep question of zoology, 
he received a letter from the West, offering him a larg-e sum for a course of 
popular lectures on Natural History ; he sent back word : " I cannot afford to 
waste my time making money." There were a great many people surprised 
when this answer was made public ; but it helped to arouse a new and different 



Arnold Henry Cfuyut. 371 

interest in his work. Men of other pursuits loolved to see what there could be in 
scientiflc study and investig-ation, and in making- the results known to others, 
which meant more than could he reckoned in money value. While looking- they 
became interested, and so a wide, popular interest and understanding- of the 
great works of nature beg-an to spread over the whole country. Professor Ag-as- 
siz's lectures were attended and his books were read b^^ thousands of men and 
women who never before thoug-ht of science ; and many more people than formerly 
beg-an not only to take up the study in the true spirit, but to contribute money 
and labor to its advancement. 

At different times Mr. Ag-assiz made tours throug-h various parts of this coun- 
try, and into the Amazon reg-ion of South America, making- the discovery of many 
fishes before unknown, and writing- a book on his " Journey in Brazil," as well as 
a much larg-er work of several volumes on " Contributions to the Natural History 
of the United States." 

Professor Ag-assiz's theory of the formation of the world and the develop- 
ment of the vegetable and animal kingdoms differed from the idea of evolution 
which is most g-enerally believed, and when, in the latter years of his life, he be- 
came a believer in God, and an earnest Christian, he felt fully convinced that 
science and the Christian relig-ion fully ag-ree. 

Louis Ag-assiz was born at Moltier, Switzerland, May 28, 1807. He died in 
Cambridge, Massachusetts, December 14, 1873. 

In the year 1848 Professor Agassiz persuaded his friend and countryman, 
Arnold Henry Guyot, to come to the United States, and in a short time he 
also made this his adopted country. As a scientist and as a teacher, he soon united 
his interests so thoroughly' with those of our people that he is commonly spoken 
of as the American geographer. 

These two Swiss scholars had been friends for a long time ; they were of the 
same age, and had become acquainted while students at Carlsruhe, long before. 
With a strong regard for each other, and a common interest in physical science, 
they had kept up their friendship throug-h many changes and long separations, 
and at last, when they were settled near together again, in a foreign land, they 
had a great deal of happy companionship, until Professor Agassiz died, twenty- 
five years after his illustrious friend came here. 

Guyot first studied theology, and in addition took uj) physics, meteorology, 
chemistry, mineralog-y, zoolog3', and botany. He Avas scarcely thirty years old 
when the University of Berlin made him a Doctor of Philosophy, and after that he 
spent five years of very deep and severe study at Paris, traveling- in the summer 
to France, Belg-ium, Holland, and Italy, to further push his studies in science. 



372 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

For nearl3' ten years after that he was a Professor of History and Physical 
Geog-rapliy in the school at Neiifchutcl, where years before he had been a student. 
The political revolution in 184S bi-oke uptliis academy, and it w^as then, when his 
powers were in their prime, that he was induced to come to the United States. 
At first, of course, he w^ent to Cambridg-e, Massachusetts, where Professor Ag-as- 
siz was living- ; but after he had delivered some lectures and become somewhat 
known, he was wanted in other places. The Massachusetts Board of Education 
invited him to teach their teacliers the best methods of g-iving- lessons in g-eog-ra- 
phy, and after that the Smithsonian Institution eng-ag-ed him to find out about the 
height and i)hysical structure of the Alleg-henj- Mountain system. 

After he had been here about seven years he became a Professor of Physical 
Geog-raphy at Princeton Colleg-e, New Jersey, which chair he held during- the rest 
of his life. But, while teaching- there, he also kept up his studies and writing-s, and 
delivered many courses of scientific lectures. Guyot's Primary, Intermediate, and 
Physical Geographies and his large set of wall maps are pretty well known to all 
boys and g-irls in school, and his name is also familiar, with that of President Bar- 
nard, of Columbia Colleg-e, as joint editor with hhn of Johnson's " Universal En- 
cyclopedia." Beside^ these g-reat works, he also g-athered his lectures into sev- 
eral other valuable books on science. He was the first person who found the 
exact heig'ht of Moimt Washing-ton and also of the Green Mountains, and the 
Black Mountains in North Carolina. 

Professor Guyot was born near Neufchatel in Switzerland, September 28, 1807. 
He died at Princeton, New Jersey, February 8, 1884. 

The two g-reatest botanists of this country were educated for physicians. 
Natives of the same State — New York — the^^ were friends and fellow-workers for 
many years. The eldei- man was John Torrey. He beg-an to study plant life 
in the regions near New York City Avhen he was quite young-, and at the ag-e of 
twent3"-one published his first book. From that time till he w^as past middle life 
he devoted himself to discovering- and classifying- the flora of this country. There 
were then a countless number of wild flowers and wood plants, even in the most 
thickly settled parts of the land, that were unnamed and wiiose very exist- 
ence was unknown. The people of the United States did not know — and had no 
books fi-om which to learn — the flora even of their own counties ; and it was this 
want that Dr. Torrey set himself to fill. He went out, hunted up his specimens, 
analyzed them, classified them, and carefully describing- each in its place as he 
found them, he prepared a series of thoroug-hly scientific botanies, first of the 
Northern United States, and then of all North America. Of course the}' did not 
include everything at first. ))ut they opened the way for perfection and did a g-reat 



Asa Gray. 373 

deal to establish the new, natural theories and methods of classifying- in place of 
the old, artificial ones. Other workers who have come after Professor Torrey have 
seemed to do more and have gained a greater name than he ; but it is to him that 
the first honors in the science of botany in America most truly belong, though, 
as with all pioneers, the results of his labors show moi-e in the work of those who 
followed him than in his own. 

Meanwhile he was also Professor of Natural Sciences at West Point, which he 
left to teach chemistry and botany in the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 
New Yoi'k Cit3\ During most of this time he was also professor at Princeton 
College, and, later, became chief assa^-er in the United States Assay Office in New 
York. He was one of the founders of the New York Lyceum of Natural Histor^^ 
and wrote valuable papers for its Annals, as well as for SiUiman's Journal and 
many other of the leading scientific magazines of the day. 

Professor Torrey was born August 15, 1T9G, in New York City, where lie died 
March 10, 1873. 

After several years of research, discovery, and writing, Professor Torrey 
found a valuable helper in a young medical graduate, Asa Gray. He was an 
enthusiastic lover of botany, and had decided to give up the idea of becoming a 
physician to devote himself, under Dr. Torre^', to the science of plants and flowers. 
The student and teacher soon became fast friends and fellow-workers. They 
labored together on the " Flora of North America," which was the most impoi-- 
tant book on botany that had ever been published in America and placed its au- 
thors at once among the leading scientists of the countr3^ It came out in the year 
1838, when Dr. Torrey was forty-two years old and Mr. Gray was twenty-eight. 
The younger man had brought out one book on the '' Elements of Botany '" a few 
years before, and from that time on he has labored continuously in the same field, 
lecturing meanwhile to the students at Harvard College, visiting Europe, corre- 
sponding with the great French Academy of Sciences, and acting as one of the re- 
gents of the Smithsonian Institution. 

About fifteen years ago he retired from the lecture-room at Harvard — after 
thirty 3'ears of service — and has since devoted his time to new work in science — 
instead of teaching — and to the care of the fine herbarium of the university. Pro- 
fessor Gray is probably the most famous botanist this country has ever had, and 
it is scarcely possible to judge of the great value his labors have been to us and to 
the cause of science throughout the world. His books are manuals for reference 
and school-books for classes of almost every grade. His name is familiar to 
every lover of nature in the United States and to all the scientists in the world. 

Asa Gray was born at Paris, New York, November 18, 1810. 



374 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

It seems odd to many people that Elihu Burritt, one of the most learned 
men of his time, was a hard- working- moclianic, and never either studied or 
taug-ht in any college in his life. Yet it is true, and while he was master of more 
than fifty lang-uag-es, he was at the same time a most excellent blacksmith. 

He was born into a larg-e family of not very wealthy Connecticut people ; so he 
liad to take his chances for an education with the rest of the children. New Eng- 
land boys in those days were allowed to g'o to the district school three months in the 
year until the}' were sixteen years old. 

The untimely death of Mr. Burritt made Elihu lose his last quarter of schooling 
and go to work to help support the family. He bound himself to the blacksmith's 
trade until he should be twenty-one. 

There were heroes of the Revolution in almost every American family when 
Elihu was a boy, for that was when this century' was very 3' oung ; and wiien they 
met at his father's house he used to stand in the corner and listen eagerly to their 
stories. He was delighted with their accounts of bravery and warfare, and when 
he began to read his taste led him to look for reading of that kind. He found it 
in the Old Testament histories, and the Bible became his favorite book. After he 
had read and reread that, he turned to the town library. By the time he was 
sixteen he had read every book of history it held, so he next took up the poetry. 
He found these books so delightful that he would not read more than a page a 
<la\', for fear thej" would be gone too soon. They are grand old books, although 
thei-e are boys and girls who call them dull. They are Thomson's "Seasons," 
Young's "Night Thoughts," Pollock's "Course of Time," Shakespeare's plays, 
and Milton's i:)oems. While young Burritt was carefully reading these volumes 
he was also working at his trade, and doing so well that he soon became a first- 
class blacksmith. 

During his apprenticeship he had to work from ten to twelve hours a day at 
the forge ; but while he blew the bellows and poked up the fire he would use his 
mind working out such prol)l(Miis as this — not making a single figure : 

" How many yards of cloth three feet in width, cut into strips an inch wide, 
and allowing half an inch at each end for the lap, would it require to reach from 
the centre of the earth to the surface, and how much would it cost at a shilling a 
yai-d?" 

At night he would carry home in his mind several such problems worked out, 
and his brothei", wlio had made his way through Williams College, would figure 
them out upon a slate, to see if Elihu had obtained the correct answer. He was 
seldom in error. 

By the time his apprenticeship was over he had a gi-eatei- desire to study than 
ever before, so he celebi-ated his fi'eedom by spending the next winter with a 



Elihu Burritt. 375 

teacher in mathematics. He read " Virg-il " in Latin by himself for a pastime. 
Then he toolv up French, and g-rew more fond of study and quicker to learn with 
•every new undertaking-. In the spring he returned to the shop, and did the work 
of two men at the forge to make up for his " winter of luxury," as he called it. 
In this way he kept on working and studying, carrying a book in his hat and im- 
proving every odd moment until its contents were in his mind. 

In a few years he became widely known as a great scholar; but he kept to his 
trade for two reasons. One was, that with the large amount of studying he was 
doing, hard manual labor was good for his health ; and the other was, that he 
wished to show that a person could be a scholar and a good mechanic. Beside, the 
work at the forge gave him a living and furnished him with books. 

Mr. Burritt was a bachelor, and kept to his quiet life of w^ork and study for 
many ^^ears, but he was also very much intei'ested in the happiness and well-being 
'Of others. He strongly believed that the world should be ruled by peace — that 
is, by wiiat is called the " doctrine of universal brotherhood." He lectured and 
■wrote books on this subject, and through them became ver^' widely known. His 
ifirst book, '' Sparks from the Anvil," came out when he was thirtj'-eight years 
«old. Seven years later he published another, called " Thoughts on Things at 
.Home and Abroad." He lived in Europe, studying, writing, and lecturing, for 
;several years, and at one time he w^as the United States Consul at Birmingham in 
England. In 1865 he brought out the book, " A Walk from John O'Groat's to 
Land's End." Interested in many matters of public welfare, he was the chief 
advocate of the ocean pennj^ postage, and in later years worked earnestly for tem- 
perance. His writings were in the peace cause and on other subjects, and alto- 
gether make about thirty volumes. Ten j^ears before his death his lectures and 
speeches were collected and put in book-form, and the year befoi-e he died " Chips 
from Many Blocks " was given to the world. 

Mr. Burritt's great learning was due more to the fact that he studied earnestly 
and wisely to gather knowledge, and wasted no time about it, than to any special 
talents. When he wanted to master Greek, he obtained a Greek book and a dic- 
tionary and went right to work, keeping at it until he gained his object. Then he 
was ready to read and enjoy Greek authors, and was also better prepared to take 
jip another study. 

He was very highly thought of by his friends, and in public he was much es- 
teemed foi' his learning and good service to his Government and mankind. The 
two great objects of his life were self-improvement and doing good to others. 

Mr. Burritt was born December 8, 1810, at New Britain, Connecticut, where 
he died March T, 1879. 



HISTORIANS AND NOVELISTS. 



FOREMOST among American writers stands tlie most brilliant historian 
the country has ever produced, William Hickling Prescott. His 

" Ferdinand and Isabella/' '' Conquest of Mexico,"' " Conquest of Peru," and the 
unfinished work of the " History of the Reign of Philip II. of Spain," make up 
a libraiy of ten volumes, Avhich have been ranked from the first with the best 
histories ever written. He is said to have had in his writing almost if not 
quite all the qualities that make a perfect historian— " a spirit of thorough 
research, which never rests satisfied until every held has been explored, and 
every accessible source of information consulted and exhausted, an impartiahty 
which comes from a high and scrupulous sense of justice and unswerving 
devotion to truth." In these great qualities, without which no writer of 
events of the past or the present can be truly called a historian, Prescott has 
never been surpassed, and perhaps never equalled, by any writer, of whatever age 
or country. His style — that is, the language he uses — is bright, clear, and pleas- 
ant, becoming eloquent and lucid in the telling of stirring events. His works came- 
out years apart, and every time a volume appeared people felt a doubleinterest in 
it, because they knew that the accurate, faithful labor that had been put in it was. 
all done under a great disadvantage. It was known far and Avide that Mr. Pres- 
cott was partially blind, and if his writings had been far less worthy in them* 
selves they would have been warmly received by the public. 

Mr. Prescott was a man of good education. He had been well taug-ht in the 
best school in New England wiien he was a lad, and*liad entered the sophomore 
class at Harvard College wlien he was fifteen years old. This was in 1811, Pres- 
cott was about the age of Professor Joseph Henry, George Peabody,. and several 
others, whose careers, beginning with the early part of this cenAurv, have left an 
impression that will far outlast its length. He did well in \im studies, especially 
in languages, history, and literature ; but during the junior year a hard crust of 
bread, thro\Am in frolic and accidentally hitting him in the left eye, marred thehap-r 
piness of his wiiole life in a moment. After some weeks he was able to take up/ 



WilViaDi Hickliiig Prescott. 



377 



his studies again and the eye looked as well as before, but its sight was gone for- 
ever. This was a grief to the bright and lively student, and a severe shock to his 
whole system, but he resolved not to let it hinder him from becoming a good 
scholar ; he kept on with his course, and after graduating with his class began to 
study law. But being in a weak condition from the accident, the one eye could 
not stand the double strain, and a disease set in which made him entirely blind for 
some weeks. He bore this new trial with cheerfulness and courage, but he could 
not keep it from alTecting his health. A trip to Europe was made to give him a 




Wn,LIAM HlCKLING PRESCOTT. 

change, but it did little good, and when he came home he made up his mind that he 
should have to give up the law. But still he was not discouraged ; he decided to 
study literature and become a man of lettei's, although he had to spend a large 
part of his time in a darkened room, his feeble eye scarcely being able to stand 
light enough for some one to read to him. 

Gradually, however, he grew better ; then he married, and the year after he be- 
gan a regular course of study by having some one read aloud to him. His plan was 
to take up the works of the best English prose writers, from Roger Ascha-m to his 
own time, and afterward the best works in French and Italian literature. By care 
and determination he was able to keep on this time. In a few years he began to 



378 One Hundred Famous AiYiericaiis. 

study the Spanish kmguag-e and hterature, and it was after he opened this " Span- 
ish campaign, which ended only with his life " — as his friend, George Ticknor, said 
— that lie decided to wi-ite the histories of tlie Spaniai-ds in their own country and 
the New World. Patiently, faithfully, in spite of hindrances, he undertook what a 
thoroughly strong man mig'ht have been fearful of, and he did it so perfectly that 
his name was placed at once among the leading- writers of history in all ages. 
The troid)le with his ej'es never entn-el\' passed away, and much of his study, re- 
search, and the writing* itself had to be dotie through some one else. Yet none 
of these disadvantag"es appeal' in his works, antl liis fame rests on no other claim 
than g-reat merit. 

Mr. Prescott's books are distinguished for vividlj^ representing characters and 
events without making them either more important or less so than others with 
which they are connected. An American critic says : " Prescott presents a true 
exhibition of the period of time he has chosen for his subject ; he makes the 
reader understand its peculiar character, realize its passions and prejudices, and 
see it at once with the eye of a contemi^orary, and judge it without any bias. He 
took old documents written by many persons who looked at the men and events 
of their- time from different points of view — a host of testimonials from manj- 
sources — and carefully weighed them and worked them in together till they fur- 
nished to his mind ;i fair and unbiassed history. Then, that he gave to the 
world. 

He was never in Spain, yet his stor-ies and descriptions are as vivid as if he came 
from a long line of Spanish descent and his whole life had been passed on the his- 
toric spots he depicts. Most of his Avor-k was done in his quiet, happy home in 
Boston. A fortune was spent in rare books and copies of precious old manuscripts 
and all the new material and important i-ecords he could find. These were read to 
him by faithful friends and capable secretaries, and as he listened, their contents 
made an image on his mind — he seemed to have a quicker mental eye because of 
his feel)Ie real ones — and as he went about the house and walked the Boston 
str-eets, he w^as in Spain, in Mexico, in Peru, feeling- himself to be one of the com- 
panies described in the musty old chronicles. He formed his own fair judgment 
of the principal actors by sifting and weighing the opposing statements about 
them. He had the great power of historical imagination. He realized to him- 
self the characters and events of ages long }iast ; and then he reproduced them for 
others in such easy, clear-, and picturesque nar-rative that his readers follow him 
through page after page, with a delight that only few novelists can awaken ; 
they forget that tliese pleasing- books have cost years of pain and labor to 
their author. Added to all this, Mr. Prescott has the rare quality of leaving 
his readers to take tlieii- own view of the tales he tells, when most historians, even 



George Ticknor. 379 

the best, carry their own feehng-s into their work ; and when you have finished 
their books, you have their view of the facts, not your own. Of the times and the 
characters of Prescott's liistories ^-ou are free to form your own opinion. 

Some three or four years after his last finislied work was published, Mr. Pres- 
€ott went ag-ain to Europe. He was then as famous abroad as at home, and was 
received with the highest honors wherever he went. At tliis time he was in mid- 
dle life, being almost fifty- five years old. His fine presence, manl^^ character, and 
courteous manner made him liked personally as much as he was honored for his 
g-reat name. His face — we are told — was sing-ularly bright, genial, and attract- 
ive. Those about him could not help catching his smile, and his disposition was 
most friendly, generous, and kind. His fig-ure was tall, well formed ; his hair was 
light brown, and his complexion was clear and handsome. 

He was enrolled among- the members of many foreign societies, who do not 
open their doors even to scholars unless they have really added to human knowl- 
edge in their literai-y labors. 

Returning home, the industrious author took up his work ag-ain, this time on 
the " History of PhiUp II." Regularly he walked five miles every day, composing 
in his mind as he walked. Then he went into his larg-e library — where the lig-ht 
was carefully regulated not to tax his eyes— and spent five hours in work. He 
wrote with his stylus— a cunning contrivance of his own to overcome his lack of 
eyesight— what he had composed in his walk, had it copied by his secretary, and 
then read over to him, while he attentively corrected it. To refresh his mind, two 
hours a day were usually' spent in having novels read to him, and the rest of his 
time was given to his family, his fi'iends, and outside interests. 

He had a generous, kindly nature, and always g-ave away one-tenth of his am- 
ple income for the benefit of others less fortunate than himself. 

After three volumes of the " History of Philip II."' were published, and before 
the third came out he had an attack of apoplexy, that was fatally renewed ag-ain 
while he was at work on the fourth volume— and the rest of the w^ork was never 
finished . 

William H. Prescott was born at Salem, Massachusetts, May 4, 1796. He died 
.at Boston, January 38, 1859. 

In life and in literature Mr. Prescott's name is linked with that of his illustrious 
friend, George Ticknor. They were friends, natives of the same State, resi- 
dents of the same city, of about the same age, both famous Spanish scholars and 
historians for that comitry, and after Prescott's death Ticknor wrote the story 
«of his life in one of the most interesting- biographies that has ever been published. 

OBorge Ticknor has also a place all his own among American writers. It was 



380 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

won l)y his " History of Spanish Literature," a work of onl^^ three voknnes, but so 
perfect of its kind that the sharpest critics in all countries united hi its praise, and 
in placing- its author in the foremost ranks among- the pj-ose writers of tlie world. 
It was translated into the languages of Europe and is the standard authority upon 
hterature in the Spanish tongue. " It is," said a critic, " one of the most solidly 
valuable works ever given to a high department of letters." 

Beginning with the timt' when he was a boy preparing- for Dartmouth College,. 
]\Ir. Ticknor's whole life was devoted to learning ; he graduated with credit, was 
admitted to the bar when he was twenty years old, but continued his studies in 
literature instead of practicing. Four years were spent in Europe, at Gottingen — 
where Prescott and Motley also studied — at Rome, Paris, Madrid, Edinburgh, and 
London, where he had the acquaintance and often the cordial friendship of the 
most distinguished people in Europe. His desire for information and ability for 
using it, as well as his powers of thought, were remarkable, even among remark- 
able men. 

On coming back to America, in the year 1819, he was appointed Professor of 
French and Spanish in Language and Literature at Harvard University. 

The object of his stay abroad had been to fit himself to be active and useful at 
home ; and with rare learning and accomplishments, cultivated tastes, uncommon 
social gifts, read}' kindness, and active energy he returned to take an important 
place in Boston society. Though he was then but tAventy-seven years old, he be- 
came at once a man of weight both among the cultivated and literary people and 
among the public-spii-ited business men of the city. For the college and liis work 
in it he was alwaj^s full of zeal. His lectures not only held the interest of his 
classes while he was talking, but they influenced the students a gi-eat deal toward 
devoting themselves to good learning. 

Among all matters of public interest in Boston Mr. Ticknor was most active 
in the work of providing public libraries. About fom^ years after his return from 
Europe, he was chosen trustee of the Boston Athena?um, and probabl^^ did more 
than ^ny other one person to enlarge the scope and extend the usefulness and es- 
tablish the permanent success of that institution. He spent a great deal of time 
during one winter in working for this. He asked for subscriptions, interested peo- 
ple of influence in its success, and prepared lists of books to be added to those 
already in its collection. 

But his greatest work of this kind was undertaken for the Boston Public Li- 
brary about twenty-five 3'ears later. He had then returned from a second visit in 
Europe, during which he had learned more than he ever knew before about the 
value of the great public libraries abroad — having begun to prepare for his ''His- 
tory of Spanish Literature." As soon as he found that Senator Edward Everett 



George Ticknor. 381 

and others were interested to establish something- of the same sort in America — in 
Boston — he came forward at once with his ripe scholarship and valuable aid to do 
all in his power to make it a g-reat, well-planned, and liberal institution. Other 
men gave up their theoi'ies about it for his, and the splendid gift in money of Mr. 
Joshua Bates enabled Professor Ticknor and his fellow-workers to found and or- 
ganize what is probably the g-reatest free library in this country. He was liberal 
toward it with mone^' and books as well as in time and labor. His gift of Italian, 
Spanish, and Portuguese books and manuscripts and works upon the literature of 
those countries in other lang-uages, with a fund to keep increasing- the collection, 
places the Library, in this department, far ahead of any other in America, and 
ranks it with some of the greatest of Europe. 

It was after fifteen years of devoted work that Professoi- Ticknor left his chair 
at Harvard, and the poet Longfellow took his place. As soon as he was free, he 
started with his famil}^ on his second journey to Eui-ope. He remained abroad 
for three years, spending a large part of tlie time in preparing- to begin work on 
his History, visiting- the g-reat libraries, and collecting- books and manuscripts for 
future use. 

On his return he made his home in Boston, and during the next ten years — from 
the time he was about forty-eight years old imtil he was nearly sixty — he was 
steadil^^ occupied with his writing-. As he laboi-ed on month after month and 
year after ,^'ear, he still kept an active interest in public affairs, and said little 
about his undertaking-, though he was full of love and enthusiasm for it. When 
it was at last completed, it was so ably and so thoroughly done that the g-round it 
covers will never need to be gone over again. Mr. Ticknor's fame rests chiefly 
upon this and the " Life of Prescott," althoug-h he was also the editor of the 
" Remains of Nathaniel Appleton Haven," and the author of a " Life of Lafay- 
ette." He has, probabh% the highest reputation for pure scholarship ever reached 
by any Amei'ican. 

In manners and in conversation most people found Mr. Ticknor reserved ; for, 
while he desired very much to be useful to his fellow-men — and was — his culture was 
so far above the understanding of ordinary people that he had to keep his thoughts 
very much to himself. There were few men or women in the whole country who 
had anything like his attainments in learning ; and the best in the nation 
were his friends and prized his acquaintance. Yet he did not hold himself aloof 
as a great man ; he loved people, was continually^ doing g-ood, and felt the most 
tender compassion for the poor. He was a man of pure character, high inten- 
tions, and resolute will. He loved truth and right, distrusted fanatics and dema- 
g-ogues, and so hated baseness and corruption that strang-ers often thought him 
lofty and intolerant. 



382 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

His great success as a scholar was due to having a thirst for knowledge, a re- 
markable memory, and a healthy, manly nature that was trained to diligence^ 
self-control, and the highest respect for truth in every form. He was earnest, 
exact, unselfish, and faithful, both as a scholar and as a gentleman. 

Professor Ticknor was born August 1, 1791, in Boston, Massachusetts, where 
he died, January 26, 1871. 

About thirty years ag-o two new works of history were sent to the critic of 
the Edinburgh Eevieiv. One was " Philip IL," by William H. Prescott, the 
other was entitled "The Rise of the Dutch Republic," and was written by 
John Lothrop 3Iotley. " They do great honor to American literature," 
wrote the critic ; " and they would do honor to any literature in the world," 

Prescott was already known, and had ranked for years among the greatest of 
historians ; but Motley was a new writer in that field. He was a Harvard g-radu- 
ate, had been a student at famous old Gotting-en University, and had spent sev- 
eral years more in travel and in studying law ; he had published two romances, 
written a good many articles for some of the first magazines in America, and 
had done a number of other things without any marked success. But in about 
1850, when he Avas over thirty-five years old, he found his true line of work when 
he resolved to write a history of Holland — a grand chapter in the world's annals 
that had never yet been well recorded. 

He soon left America, and spent several years in Europe, searching out old 
papers, ransacking libraries, and in every way possible finding out all that he 
could about the history of the Low Countries. After six years of labor the three 
volumes of the " Rise of the Dutch Republic " appeared in London. It was a 
great success from the first. 

The value of the information, and the style of the writing, as well as the 
thoughtful reflections of the author, were appreciated at once, and Mr. Motley 
had the pleasure of finding himself ranked among the best historians of Europe 
and AnuM'ica. He was regarded as next to Prescott in his native land. Several 
editions were sold very soon, and it was translated into the French, Dutch, and 
German languages. 

Four years later he began to publish four more volumes, which were a continu- 
ation of tlu' " Rise of the Dutch Republic," and were entitled "The History of 
the United Netheiiands from the Death of William the Silent to the Synod of 
Dort." 

In this — writes Oliver Wendell Holmes — the monumental work continued 
as nobly as it had begun. The facts had been slowly, quietly gathered one by 
one, like pebbles from the empty channel of a brook. The style was fluent, im- 



John Lothrop Motley. 



383- 



petuous, abundant, impatient, as it were. . . . Sometimes he has faults. 
In places he uses stronger language than is necessary ; and every reader will not 
care to follow him through all the details of diplomatic intrigues which he has, 
with such industry and sagacity, brought to light from the old manuscripts 
in which they had long laid hidden. But we turn a few pages, and we come to 
one of those descriptions which arrest us at once, and show him in his power and 
brilliancy as a literary artist. His characters move before us with the features of 
life ; we can see Elizabeth, or Philip, or Maurice, not as a name connected with 





John Lothrop Motley. 

events, but as breathing and acting human beiugs. To be loved or hated, ad- 
mired or despised, as if he or she were living in our own times. 

During almost the whole of the seven years while the second history was being 
brought out Mr. Motley was Minister plenipotentiary to Austria, and two years 
later, in 1869, he was apponited Ambassador to England by President Grant; and 
although he held this office only a few months, he spent the remaining seven years 
of his life in Great Britain. 

He was a courteous, easy-mannered, modest man, with an air of refinement 
and high breeding that was very attractive. In public business — diplomacy — he 



•384 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

was skillful, dignified, and straightforward. As a scholar, lie was earnest, indus- 
trious, faithful, and exceedingly able. The "Life of John of Barneveldt, ' ' which is a 
history of the causes and movements of the Thirty Years' War, rather than a biog- 
raphy Of the great advocate of Holland, was published in 1874. " It is," said the 
London Quarter! tj, ''a line and continuous story, of which the writer and the 
nation he celebrates have reason to be proud ; a narrative which will remain a 
prominent ornament of American genius, while it has permanently enriched Eng- 
lish litei-ature on this as well as on the other side of the Atlantic." 

On the last day of tlie Near in which this work appeared occurred the death of 
Mrs. Motley, who had been " the pride of her husband's earlier years, and the 
stay and solace of those which had so tried his sensitive spirit." It was a loss 
that broke his heart ; he came to America in the next ^'ear, and his friends rallied 
round him with deepest love and devotion, but he was utterly broken, and in a 
few years he passed away, swiftly and suddenly. 

John Lolhi'op Motley was born April 15, 1814, at Dorchester, Massachusetts, 
near which town he died, May 29, 1817. 

The greatest writer of American histor3^, George Bancroft, is almost as 
<old as the nineteenth century, for he was born before the close of its first year. 
He was a Massachusetts boy, the son of a well-known Congregationalist clergy- 
man. At the age of thirteen he was sent to Harvard College, where he was a 
brilliant and a hard-working student. At the end of the course he graduated with 
some of the highest honors, although his class had an unusual number of fine 
students. 

While he was in college Bancroft was especially interested in the writings of 
man}' German authors, and wiien he graduated he went at once to Germany to 
perfect himself in that language, and to listen to the lecturers at some of the great 
universities. The German men of letters are probably the most industrious 
scholars in the world, and among them Mr. Bancroft— who liad loved study all his 
life — became even more studious than he had been before. At that time Goethe 
was in the prime of his powers, and all Gei-many was enthusiastic about him. 
The young American toolv the gi-(>atest interest in all he wrote, and was much in- 
fluenced by him in his w^ays of thinking. 

He stayed abroad for four years, and when he came back he was at once 
given a position as tutor m Harvard College. But ho did not stay there long. 
He wanted to have a school of his own, where he could teach in much the same 
way as classes are managed in Germany. Before long he had the chance to take 
charge of a school in Northampton, Massachusetts. The people of this country 
Aver(» then so sti-ongly picjiidiccd against uvw ways of teaching that Mr. Bancroft's 



(jreorge Bancroft. 385 

school was not veiy successful ; but he did good in it, and opened the way for 

Americans in New England at least— to better understand the ideas of foreign 

teachers and writers. 

Mr. Bancroft's father wished him to become a minister of the Gospel like him- 
self • but the son had now grown too much interested in teaching- and in writing- 
to want to take up any different work. He wrote a great deal for the papers, and 
when he was twenty -three years old he published a small volume of poems. It 




George Bancroft. 

had no great success, and he then stopped making verses and devoted himself to 
ti-anslating a valuable German historical ^vork, written by one of his old teachers. 

This was his first step into the department of literature where he now stands 
among the greatest authors in the world. 

Meanwhile he became much interested in the politics of the day. He was a 
Deuiocrat, though the greater part of the people in Massachusetts at that time 
belonged to the Whig party. When the Democratic President, Martin Van 
Buren, was elected, he appointed Mr. Bancroft Collector of the Port of Boston, 
which is a very profitable position. Afterward, when Mr. Polk was President, 
Mr. Bancroft became Secretary of the Navy. He only held this position for a 



'MQ One Hundred Famous Ainevicans. 

short time, but in that time he accomplished a gi-eat deal in getting- the Govern- 
ment to found the Naval School at Annapolis and in improving- the Astronomical 
Observatory at Washing-ton. After he withdi-ew from the Cabinet, he was at 
once sent to England as a special Minister fi-om the United States Government, 
cliiefly to make better terms \\'\\\\ Gi'eat Bi'itain about navigation. 

He was now very much interested in the history of the United States. He 
had already written an elaborate " History of the Colonization of the United 
States of North America," which was pul)iished ten years after his translation of 
the German work. Now he was anxious to take up the second pei-iod and stud\' 
the records of the Revolutionary War. Throug-h the courtesy of the British and 
French Governments he had in London and Paris excellent opportunities to exam- 
ine many rare and valuable historical papers, and during- the three yeais that he 
lived abroad a lai-g-e part of his time was spent in g-etting- ready to begin his his- 
tory of the great strug-g-le for independence in America. Just before he left Eng-- 
land the University of Oxford g-ave him the deg-ree of Doctor of Laws, \^•hich is 
an honoi- that that univei'sity has very rai*ely paid to an American. He made his 
home in New York, and for many years he refused all public office so that he 
miglit work the inore faithfully on his g-reat history. In 1853, after he had been 
back in this country for about three years, the first volume of the Revolution — 
which was the fourth of the history — came out. Then he went steadily on, still 
refusing- ])ublic duties, until the ninth volume — which was next to the last one— 
was (inished. 

Then he accepted the office of Minister to the Court of Beiiin. It was at this 
time that he made for the United States a treaty with the North German Confed- 
eration, by which German inmiig-rants who become naturalized American citizens 
are not bound to keep their alleg-iancc; to the g-overnment of their native country. 

Twelve years ag-o the tenth and last volume of Bancroft's complete " History 
of the United States " was published, and the larg-est, most important work on the 
history of this country was finished. It ranks as one of the g-reatest histories 
ever written, is a standard authoi-it^- in all countries, and has been translated into 
many of the European lang-uag-es. It is especially popular in Germany. Soon 
after this edition was published the untiring- author beg-an to carefully revise 
his whole work, and in 1884 a complete new edition was broug-ht out in six 
volumes. i 

He had long- ag-o ceased to belong- to the Democratic party, having- joined the 
Republicans as soon as that party was foi'm(!d. He then for* sevei'al yeai's was a 
prominent representative of the United States abroad, and. during- that time he 
received many honors from learned men and societies in the countries which he 
visited. 



Riclmrd Hihlreth. 387 

George Bancroft was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, October :], 1800. He 
is now living- in Washington, D. C 

While Mr. Bancroft was in Europe, beginning liis long- and careful researches 
for his "Revolution," Kicliard Hildreth, a Massachusetts man, seven years 
younger than Bancroft, brought out a smaller and more condensed History of the 
United States, which still holds its place as one of standard authoi-ity, although 
it was finished almost sixty years ago. In the opinion of some critics it is the 
ablest work of its kind in American literature. Mr. Hildreth studied carefully alii 
the means of infoi'mation within his reach, but he did not attempt to search out 
and examine original papers upon the extensive scale laid out by Mr. Bancroft. 
His work makes six volumes and tells the story of this country's affairs from the 
(Uscovery of America to the close of the Sixteenth Congress in 18:30. It was the 
great work of the author's life. He planned it when he was about tAventy yeai'S 
old and a student at Harvard College, but almost a quarter of a century of his 
busy life passed before it was actually begun. Meanwhile he carried the project 
in his mind — while he was a lawyer, then as editor of one of the chief Whig jour- 
nals in New England, on the health trip to the South, wiiile he was publishing an 
anti-slavery novel, during the time that he was writing a set of articles for the 
Atlas, in 1837, to defeat the scheme for annexing Texas to the United States, 
and through all his activity in politics to h(^lp along the election of President 
Harrison. 

About the time that this campaign was in progress Mr. Hildreth brought out 
an able review of the social, political, and economical aspects of slavery in the 
United States, called "Despotism in America." Then, being in bad health, he 
took a journey to British Guiana, living for three years in Georgetown, the capital. 
He there studied the philosophy of histoiy, and wrote some papers on that sub- 
ject. " The Theor-y of Morals," and the " Theory of Politics ; or. An Inquiry into 
the Foundations of Governments and the Causes and Progress of Political Revo- 
lutions," which are able w^orks of their kind, were written at that time. 

A few years after he returned the history was brought out. As a work of ref- 
erence this history still remains as the best in our catalogues of works on Amer- 
ican history. The style is concise, the facts happily combined, the judgments gen- 
erally good ; and, while justice is done to our great men, there is everywhere to 
be seen an almost vindictive contempt of persons who have made themselves 
" great " by the arts of the demagogue. He was a bold, blunt, hard-headed, and 
resolute man, caustic in temper, keen in intellect, untiring in industry, and blessed 
with an honest horror of shams. His purpose was to write a history of the United 
States in which our fathers should be presented exactly as they were, " unbe- 



388 One Hundred FiDnous AntericcDis. 

daubed with patriotic roug-c." Tlie best jiulges here and abroad ag-ree that he 
carried out his purposes with g-eiiuine success and hterary merit. 

Richard Hildreth was born in Deerfield, Massachusetts, June 28, 1807. He 
died in Florence, Italy, 18G5. 

Mr. Bancroft and Mr. Hildreth, able and excellent as their work is, and fresh 
also as is much of its inrorniation, are g-reatly indel)ted to the almost-forg-otten 
American historians Avho came before them. The}" who chronicled the events 
which they saw, or first beg-an to gather the records of the past and put them 
into the form of a narrative, paved the w^ay for their g-reater successors and 
left for them much of the material for their noble tasks. First among- these 
early historians Avas David Ramsay. He was born in the middle of the last 
century, saw the Revolution and the War of 1812, and made the first United 
States history worthy of the name. He also wrote a " History of South Caro- 
lina." Henry Lee — " Lig-ht-horse Harry " — vyho was half a dozen years .young-er 
than Ramsay, and died before the second war with England, also left a valuable 
work of reference in his " Memoirs of the Southern Department of the United 
States." A g-eneration later, Timotliy Flint wrote a " Condensed Geog-rapliA,' 
and History' of the "^estern States in the Mississippi Valley," during- the time 
that John Quincy Adams was sitting- in the President's chair. 

Among- other wi'ite)\s of Amei'ican histor\^ who have merited some fame is 
Benson J. Lossing-, who was born in New York State in 1813, and wrote ovei' a 
dozen volumes, some of which, especially the "'Field-Book of the Revolution" 
and the '* History of the War of 1812," are valuable works. Francis Parkman, 
a Boston man, who was born in 1823, also has had a g-reat and well-deserved 
popularity for his "Conspiracy of the Pontiac," the "Jesuits of America," 
the '' Discovery of the Great West," the " Pioneers of France ija the New" World," 
and other works of history that required great labors among- unpublished records, 
and still remain the only works of any note on these subjects of American history. 
John Goi'ham Palfrey, a Boston clergyman, born in 1796, also wrote a valuable 
history of New England, although most of his works were on theology. 

Among the few other historians of this country who have not made their books 
from the works of these authors is James G. Blaine, whose " History of Forty 
Years in Congress" has been the labor of many years, and is based upon state 
papers and the personal experience of the writer and his associates. General 
Grant's " Memoirs " is probably the most famous work on the Civil War, and 
the new book of "Memoirs of John C. Fremont" contains a great deal of new 
information about the opening up of the West and the conquest of California. 



Washington Irving. 389 

The historians and the novelists are linked together because they both write 
of the characters and events of life — the historian sets forth the plain facts, the 
novelist colors them with his imag'inatioii . History is the record of facts, fiction 
is the record of the imagination ; and these two, either separate or combined, 
make all the literature of the world. There is much imagination in ever3' great 
history, and there is much of the history of life in all fiction, especially in novels. 
Yet in character the work of an historian is quite different from that of the writer 




Washington Irvixg. 

of fiction, and it is very rarely that any land has been gifted with a genius who, 
like our Washington Irving, stands as a link between the two. 

He was not only a writer of history and fiction, but of fictitious history — im- 
aginary stories of the richest humor, based upon most careful and painstaking 
researches into the facts of history. It was in the year 1809, when he was an at- 
tractive young man of twenty-six^and when Pi'escott was still at school and 
Bancroft w^as a little fellow just out of dresses — that he brought out his first 
book — " A History of New York from the Beginning of the World to the End of 
the Dutch Dynasty, by Dietrich Knickerbocker." It was a burlesque chronicle, 
full of humor, but written in so quiet a vein that some people took it foi' real his- 
tory. It was perfect in its way, and although a good many of the old Dutch 



3J)0 



One 1 1 1(11(1 1 ('(I ludKoKs A iiicncdKS. 



raiiiilics wci'c I'lillicr olTcndcd ;it llic \v;iv lie made Inn ol' llicir pcciiliarilics, crilics 
^•a\(' it li(':iil_\' praise. " II is," savs an American wriler, " I he niosl. jndicinnslN' 
aiulations work of liunioi- in onr literal nrc." 

'I'his was his Mrs! book, hnt not his lirsl literary work. Me had chosen wril- 
ini;- lor his proh'ssion soon alter he lel'l school w hicli was when lie was abont; six- 
teen years old : all his life he had Ix'cn fond of readini^-. and had delii^-liled in Ills 
Cat her's well-stocked lii)rary. 'l'hon.i;h not^ stndions, he had read a ^reat- (h'al. 
and had speid nian\' I hoii.i;ht I'nl honrs when a bo\ raniblin.i^- al>ont- lirslon IJie 
island of Manhattan near his lather's home, and later in nian\' other places. lie 
liad a (piick, obser\ ini;- mind, a i;reat lo\<' of Inn. and in his own way he was a 
^•enins lor telliiii;' stories. As he i;rew np he l)e,i;an to writ.(> sketehes lor iiia^'a- 
zines. Most of these were hnniorons, and t lie_\' were so well liked Ihati l)el'ore loii;!;- 
their author t'elt enconra,i;-e(l to make the la nions '* llisl-orw" In a xcar or so 
al'lerthal he i>eca me edittU' ol' I he A KdlccI ic M(((j(izi )((' \\\ rhila(lel|)liia. 

.\ll this happened bt>h>re he was really lamons. Ilewas, l-o b(» snre, preM.y 
well known in New ^'ol•k and some other cities, and was also \-ery nmcli lik'cd. 
His place was natnrally in the best society; his manly .i;racean<l .yenial manners 
won their wa_\ anioni;' the oldest lannlies the_\ cxcn had to I'or.i^'ive him for l)(>iii^' 
Diet rich Knickerbocker. 

.About ten years after the "llistorx "" was pnblished .Mr. Irxin.^was the si- 
lent partner in a commercial lionse in New ^'ork, and was leisnrel_\- lakini;- a 
pleasnre trip Ihroni^h l^ai.i^land when he snddeniN- recei\-ed word thai his lirm had 
failed. 'Phis left him wilhoid monex , far from h(»me. and with no occnpat ion. 
( )ne of his lirsl t hon.i^hts was to make a not I mm • book. lie had notes of his frax'cls 
and memories of man\' sc<Mies in America, which he (anbodied into a series of 
papers which he called the *' Sk<'1cli-Hook." 

Althonuh he had l)een a writer for several _\oars, and was not md<nown to 
Ihe pid)lic at home, he was far from i'amons ,\('t. Il(> had written a " Life of 
Tliomas ('ampl)(>ll," which had l)(>en read in l^'ai.uland, and on accoind^ of wiiicli 
that poel had received him \ (My cordially on this \ isit. Unt^ that was not fame — 
alth(»ni;h it did lead to it. ( 'ampbell int rodnced t he bri,i;lit , a,i;i'eea bleyouni;' Aiiiei'- 
ieaii to Sir Wallei- Scott, who was then the moslcelebrated writer and Ihe most, 
inlhiential man anionic' literar_\- people in haii^land; and after lr\in,i^' had written 
his book and had failed to ,i;-e|, either ol' tlie.i;reat pnblishinj^- lionses of theC'on- 
slables Ol" the .Mnrra_\s to accept it. and after he had then made an nnsnccessfnl 
ell'ort to l)rin.^- it ont on his own account. knidl_\ Sir Walter indnced Mr. Mnrray 
to ehan^-e his mind. Asa ^reat risk, a thonsand dollars was paid for the cop_\ - 
I'i^'llt with a feelin.i;' that the publishers woidd "n(>\crsee that nione_\- a.i^ain." 
r>ut they did. 1 r\ in.i;' was a close ol)ser\('r of people and t hint's ; he had watched 



VVdslii iKjIoii Irri iKf. 



391 



vvilli cii-t'im iiilciTsli (lie (|ii;iiiil iii;i liners ;iii(l nisloius of l-lir old Diilcli sclilci's in 
New \'oik, who iiiikIc up ;i i^ood |>;iiti of llic lil'l \ I lioiisii iid |»ro|»lc llicn conipfisili^" 
l.lir |)o|>ul;il-ion of Mic " KnipiiT ( !it \' ; " he liitd ;ilso triiA'clcd ;i. ;4'o(mI dcM I, some 
liiiir do/,rii \(';irs heroic, ill Kiiiiice, ll;il.\, S\vil/,eil;iii(l, :iii(l Miii;!:! lid ; :iii(l the 
(|ii:iiiir himior, the llowiii.i;- l:iii^ii;i,i;'e, .ind I he keen iiisi^hl with which he skel.ched 
the inipressioiis he h:id ^.liiied, niiide l,li(^ book popiikif ;il oiiee. The reiideis 
round ill it. ;i- <'h;ii-iii of licshness :iiid l)e;Mit,_\' IJini was ;is siii-|n-isin,i^' ;is it. was at- 
ti-aelJve. A iid a It lion.i;!) I he niodesli ant hor hid hiiiiself hehind the |)eii-iianieof 
" ( j|(^ollVev ( 'i'a,\oii," I he secret soon ca nie out . lie was an .\ nierica n ! A not her 
surprises and charni! and Washington IrxiiiL;- suddenly' found hiiiiself placed 
anioiii;- the ;^reaiest. writers in the l<aii;lisli la n.i;-iia.!4'('. Il<' ^^as rated highest, 
;i<iiion^" all \\n\ Aiiierican authors then kii(twii,aiid was compared to (loldsniith 
a.iid civcii Addison l>_\' I he ahlesi crifics in hlni^land. Mr. iMiirra\' douhled the sum 
of the copyright, and was more than vvillin;;' fo '* risk " some more pnblical.ions 
frt)iii the same anflior. 'riieii " llracehridi^e Mall " was writi.eii, and in I s;M My. 
MiirraA' paid I r\ iiii;" se\eiity-ti\c I'lindred dollars loi' the "Tales of a TraNcler" 
before he saw t he manuscript . 

Not/ loii,i4" after this, Alexander II. h'\erelt an elder brother of hldward 
hjver(d.l, a, line scholar a iid diploma list , a nd then .\ iiil>assador to Spain in\it.ed 
Mr. Ir\in,i;- l.o a^o with him lo Madrid to Iranslale solium papers comieci.ed vvitJi llie 
life of ( '<tliiiiil>iis, and it- was his acceplaiice of ibis lliai led lo his becoming' 1 be aii- 
t hor of his famous hisfories coniiecled with Spain. The " llislory of the Life and 
V()_\'a,i4cs of ( lolimibiis " was |)iiblislie(l four yc^ars after the " Tales of a. Tr;i\'- 
cler," and Ibai was followed by the " ( 'oii((uesti of ( jiraiiada," t he " A llianibi-a," 
park of which waswritJeii in the ancient Moorish pa lace it self ; " Lei^ends of I he 
( '(tiKpit'sk of Spain," and " Ma liomeli and bis Successors," all of which will always 
hold a uiii(pie place aiiioii^- Mie works of licfion Mial. a,l•(^ based nj)oii carefull_\' v(U'- 
ilied facts. 

Meanwhile the a ill Ihh' bad reliiirned for a bnv yon,rs to En^'land, and lilled {,\w 
ollice of secretaiN to the .\merican Le^^'aiioii, and, w^ilb 1 he honorable de,i4-r<>e of 
l-li.l>. from the liiii\ersity of ( ).\ford, had .i;-oii(> back in ls;'.l lo his iiati\-e lajid, 
where he was received with i;real <'iifbnsiasiii as the prid<' (tf A merican likeral.iire. 

The " Tour on t he Trairies "' was w ritlcii after a \isili lo 1 he IJock-y Mounlains, 
and maii\ graceful and interest iii.i;' sketehes of plac(>s a nd people abroad and at 
home came often from his llneiit pen in the course of the next, leu _\ears. At. t he 
<'nd of that, lime he was sent as American M inisler to Spain, where he staid b)r 
four years and wrote his " I iife of ( Joldsmifb," while bis last, and .u;realesk work, 
t be " Life of \Vasliini;toii,"' was l)roii.i;bt. oiil. diirini;- 1 li(> last four _\'ears of bis life. 
Then he was a \'enerable, w hite-ha ir(>d old ,i;-eiit tenia n. past- t lirei- score and ten, 



392 0??f Hundred Famous Auierivans. 

iiving" — a bachelor stil] — with his nieces, at his beautiful home of " Sunuyside,'^ 
on the bank of the Hudson River, near Tain^vtown, New Yoi-lv. 

Washing-ton Irviug was born in New York City, Aj)ril 3, 1783. He died at 
Sunnyside, near Tarrytown, New York, November 28, 1859. 

The fii'st great American novelist and the writei/ who, with Irving', hfted Amer- 
ican literature into note Avith other nations, was James Feiiiniore Cooper* 
He was about six years younger than the great story-writing- historian, but his 
first works came before the world a few ^\'ears before the appearance of the 
"Sketch-Book." Beside being the first great novelist born in America, Cooper 
was the first to write novels containing descriptions of American people and 
scenery, and truly deserves the title of the fathei- of our fiction. 

Thoug-li born in New Jersey, his life was passed almost entirely in New York 
State. He was but a little bo^^ when his father moved out into the interior 
part of the State, and settled in the little village upon Otsego Lake which is now 
called Cooperstown. This region was wild and luicivilized then, bordering the 
frontier wilderness, where the settlers made a small attempt at farming, but lived 
for the most part by hunting and fishing — in constant Avatch and resistance 
against the treachery of the Indians wiio lurked in the endless woods that stretched 
away from the settlement on many sides. It was here, in the midst of some of 
the most beautiful scenerj^ in America, that little Fenimore Cooper grew up. 
He had a passionate love for the w^oods and lakes, the trees, wild flowers, l)irds, 
and little animals that were his daily companions, although among the busy, prac- 
tical pioneers of the settlement there was no one to point out the loveliness of 
nature to him. In the later years of his life he often said that among- these scenes- 
those that he loved best were the ones he described in his books. 

As a bo3^, thoug-h, he had no special taste for literature. He was bright and 
quick to learn, and was sent to the village school early. By the time he was 
eleven years old he had outgrown the poor advantag-es that afforded, and went to 
Albany to study with an Engiish gentleman who pi-epared bo^-s for college. Hist 
new teacher was a good one, and by the time j^oung- Cooper was thirteen he was 
ready to enter Yale Colleg-e. He was younger and better prepared than the other 
boys in his class when he entered, and though this seemed to be an advantage at 
first, it turned out to be a misfortune; because at the outset he did not need to 
study to keep his position in the class, he formed idle habits that he could not 
break when the studic^s g-rew more difficult : and, you know, idle hands — and heads 
— always g-et into mischief. He became unruly ; did not study ; made himself dis- 
liked by the teachers, aud finally g-ot iulo some serious trouble for which he was 
dismissed from the college. Still, he was not a bad youug fellow, for the most. 



J. Fenimore Cooper. SOS" 

famous of all his professors — Benjamin Silliman, Sr. — remained his friend as 
long- as he lived. 

On leaving- Yale, Cooper hoped to soon become a naval officer, but first he had 




J. Fenimore Cooper. 



to learn to be a sailor. So, with the help of his father, he found a place on a 
merchantman ; and after a j^ear on hei% he became a midshipman in the United 



394- One Hundred Famous Americans. 

States Nav3\ He remained in the service six years, hut in 1811 he married and 
left the sea to settle on a larm in New York State. 

It was here, when he was thirty years old, that he first thought of writing a 
stor,\-. This was the way it happened : One day lie was reading an English 
novel aloud to his wife, when he suddenly stop})ed and said : " I believe I could 
myself write a better stoi-^- on the same subject." 

Mrs. Cooper advised him to try. He did and made a novel which he called 
*' Precaution. *' He i-eacl it to his friends, who told him that he ought to publish it, 
and he did. It was not a success. He knew almost nothing about English people 
and English scenery, and the book was so poor that it attracted scarcely any 
notice, yet the author was encouraged to make another attempt. This time, he 
said, he would write an American, not an English, book. He would describe the 
people and the scenery he had known all his life,' and would choose his incidents 
fi'om American history. Befoi-e the year had closed his second book was out, and 
as the author of " The Spy," Mr. James Fenimore Cooper, frontier farmer of New 
York State, found himself a famous man of letters. In this country and abroad 
he was ranked at onci^ among the very foremost of American writers. 

This decided his career, and thereaftei" his life was a litei-ar^' one. His tales 
and other books alone amount to more than one hundred volumes. His letters, 
magazine articles, and scattered papers on various subjects are numberless. Suc- 
cess crowned success, while his application was so close that one piece of work 
was scarcely finished before another was begun. He loved his country and 
had an unfailing enthusiasm in writing about it. Almost no one else at that 
time wrote about America ; nearly all stories were of European life and scene- 
ry; even American waiters felt that they must not only copy the style of 
English authors, but also follow their example in the people and the scenes they 
portrayed. 

It was a bold venture on Cooper's part, to biing out something truly American, 
but it was a novelty that became popular at once. " The Spy " was translated 
into other languages and republished in many parts of Europe. One of the great 
magazines said : " Cooper has the high praise and will have the future glory of 
having struck into a new path — of having opened a mine of exhaustless wealth. 
In a word, he has laid the foundation of American romance." And he did not 
wait long before building ui)on that foundation. "The Pioneers," "The Pilot," 
" Lionel Lincoln," " The Last of the Mohicans," and several others came out 
within the next ten years, adding to the author's reputation, almost as fast as they 
came. His fame spread like that of American commerce — to all lands and all 
peoples. The novels were intensely American in spirit, in scenery, and in char- 
acters, with a great deal of the human nature that belongs to all countries in 



./. Fe)iimore Cooper. 395 

them, besides. Everything" about them was fresh, h)fty, and romantic. He loved 
Nature and wrote from his own intimacy with lier ; and he loved the grand, sim- 
ple, straig-htforward soul of a ti^ue man, which he pictured witli wonderful skill. 
His greatest character is the hunter and trapper, '' Leatherstocking-, " who is the 
leading figure in five of the author's best novels — " The Pioneers," " The Last of 
1 he Mohicvans," " The Prairie," " The Pathfinder," and " The Deerslayer," which 
comprise "The Leatherstocking Tales." 

His two best sea-stories — also written out of his own knowledge — are " The 
Pilot " and '•' The Red Rover." Notwithstanding the long and tiresome parts of 
these stories, they are so clear and vivid that the reader often feels exactly'- as if 
he were amid the scenes and events, hoping, fearing, waiting, acting with the 
characters on the pages before him. 

Powerful and thrilling as his books are. Cooper had some very serious faults 
as a writer. He was as likely to turn out a poor story as a good one. It has been 
said that he would have had a higher reputation if about one-third of his novels 
had never been written, and if the other two-thirds had been condensed into one- 
third their present length. Certainly one of his faults was in making his descrip- 
tions and his conversations too long. Beside these defects, his books show that he 
was careless. He did not take pains enough in looking over his work and correct- 
ing it. Nor can we trust him on history. Although soon after his second book 
was published he moved to New York City, where he had a chance to see whatever 
reference- books the largest cit>' in the country contained, he was never exact about 
the historical facts which he made use of. Without reference to the truth, he 
would describe scenes and events in any way that best suited his story. In this 
he was exactly the opposite from careful, painstaking Washington Irx'ing. He 
was also careless about his language, and while it is often beautiful, it is also often 
incorrect or out of taste. 

Yet, with all his faults. Cooper had the genius of a great writer. He has given 
us noble, interesting characters of pure American type ; he has given us beautiful 
descriptions of scenery as he saw it himself, and of woodland frontier life as he 
knew it, of Indian friendship and treacher\', and in countless ways he has preserved 
ill vivid pictures scenes of early hfe in this country, which but for him would be 
almost unknown to us. 

He was an ardent pati-iot, and it grieved him to see the faults and vices of his 
countrymen ; so, after his return from a visit to Europe, in about the year 1833— 
when he was a man of middle age — he wrote a series of satirical novels, which he 
lioped would benefit our people. Perhaps they did ; but they added nothing to his 
reputation as a writer, though they show what a fearless, upright, and truthful 
man he was. Indeed it has been said that "as a brave, high-spirited, noble- 



396 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

minded man, somewhat too proud and doi;niatic, but thoroughly honest, lie was 
ever on a level with the best characters in his best woi'ks." 

When the United States Government made mistakes or did wrong-, he often 
expressed his opinion and condemnation of the matter in the newspapers. This 
sometimes g-ot him into many warm debates, and now and then made him some- 
enemies ; but thoug-h he was hot-tempered and loved to saj' just what he thought 
or felt without restraint, he was so kindly and g-enerous when his anger was past 
that he often won the people whom he had offended back to the old friendship. 

He was a very large, handsome man, a good talker and a pleasant host, and he 
was warmly loved by his o^vn family and friends. 

'. James Fenimore Cooper was born in Burlington, New Jersey, September 15, 
1789. He died at Cooperstown, New York, September 14, 1851. 

Thirty years after Cooper's fame first spread abroad, the world learned that 
America had produced another great novelist. This was the author of ''The; 
Scarlet Letter," Nathaniel Hawthorne. He was then living in his native 
town, Salem, Massachusetts, a shy, sweet-tempered man of forty-six years old. 
He was tall and handsome, with a round, well-shaped head, massive brow — " like 
a poet Webster" — a sweet smile, deep, dark ej^es, that showed the shyness of 
his nature b}^ seeming" to be alwaj^s going to glance away from the person with 
whom he was talking. The people about quaint, beautiful Salem, though they 
knew him very little, were well used to seeing the tall, manly figure in the lanes, 
among the irelds, about the seashore, moving along in his strong, rapid, swinging- 
gait, completely wrapped up in his own thoughts, or quietly enjoying the company 
of one of his few, choice friends. He lived, for the most part, in a world of his 
own; he spoke in a quiet voice, with an eas}', unexcited, self-poised mannei' ; but 
when others talked he generally was silent, and nearly everybody felt that it was 
not easy to "get near " him, as we say. 

Up to within a few years before '' The Scarlet Letter" appeared Hawthorne's, 
life had been one of much poverty and gloomy sadness ; henceforth it was one of 
prosperity and (luiet happiness. But the story of that life is too interesting to be^ 
told in one sentence. He was a thorough New Englaudei-. His forefathers were 
among the first Puritans that came over from old England ; devoted, stern follow- 
ers of the "Dissenting" religion. Most of them were sea-faring men, and Na- 
thaniel's father was a shipmaster, who died far from home when his son was but 
four years old. His mother grieved bitterly for her husband all the rest of her 
life, and their home was always a house of mourning. 

When Nathaniel was nine years old he hurt his foot in a game of foot-ball, and 
for three years he had to keep pretty ((uiet most of the time. It was a misfort- 



Nathaniel Haivthorne. 



397 



uiie that proved a benefit, for it was during- the long- montlis when he was first 
■confined to tlie liouse tliat lie began to be interested in reading. There were then 
not as many books for children as there are now — .young- folks had to read fi^oni 
old folk's libraries. Little Nathaniel read over and over again Bunyan's " Pil- 
grim's Progress," which w^as his favorite, and also Spenser's poem of the '* Fair3^ 




Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

Queen," and other old-fashioned books, such as most little bo^^s now think very 
hard to understand. 

When he was sixteen he left quaint, lovely, -old-fashioned Salem — which he 
has made famous wherever the English language is read — and entered Bowdoin 
Colleg-e, at New Brunswick, Maine. Here he was fortunate in having a number 
(of very bright and gifted companions. Longfellow was his classmate and friend, 
Franklin Pierce — who aftei'ward became President — was in the class ahead of 
him, and became his life-long and intimate friend, while with Horatio Bridge — who 
in later years was a distinguished officer in the United States Navy — he had 
still closer companionship. 



398 One Hundred Famous Anieru-ann. 

After Hawthorne g-raduated, he went home to liis mother's gloomy, lonesome 
house, and there passed twelve years of secluded, studious life. His mother still 
nourished her g-rief in loneliness, and with his shy, retiring-, and often melancholy 
nature, Hawthorne easily fell into her quiet, unsocial life, growing more diffi- 
dent every year, till but foi' a very few friends he was as unknown to his neigh- 
bors — except b^' sight— as if he were a stranger in the town. Yet he had kind 
feelings toward people ; he Avas always gentle and full of good-will for those 
ai'ound him, but he was painfull}' reserved and diffident, while he was often af- 
flicted with fits of heavy gloom and low spirits. 

Duiing this time he was tr^dng to w^iite, but he was so dissatisfied with his 
first stories that he burnt most of them before any one else saw them. Some. 
however, he published, though he only received a very little money for them, if 
any. It was much harder for anybody to earn his living by writing in America 
Avhen Hawtliorne was young than it is now. Time after time he was discouraged, 
but still he kept on. He had, he felt, a work to do ; and he did it, though nobody 
seemed to want it, and he was himself far from sure that he was doing it well. 
Year after year he " wrought patiently and unrecognized at his marvelous work, 
and because he did not falter or despond, nor aim low^er, nor try for the easy 
vogue of the day, but was content to serve beauty and truth for the sake of 
beauty and truth, he ife now held of all men with gratitude and reverence as one 
of the benefactors of the world." Twelve years after he left college he decided 
to collect a number of his stories that had already been printed in papers and 
magazines and published them in a book under the name of " Twice-Told Tales.'" 
Even then few people took any notice of them. Mr. Longfellow — who had an 
easier time in making himself known — wrote a notice of the work of his old 
schoolmate for the North American Review, praising the stories as the work 
of a man of genius ; but it was not till several years later that they were 
anything like widely read and appreciated, even by literary people. 

For a long time after he was able to make his living — a bare one — by his pen, 
lie was far from famous. In 1843, six years after the " Twice-Told Tales " came 
out, he moved from Salenl to Concord, and with the sweet, lovable lady whom he 
iiad married meantime, he lived in an old manse that was standing- in Eevolution- 
ary days. It is said that the parish minister who lived there long ago stood at 
one of its window^s on the 19th of April, 1775, and looking out upon the battlefield 
saw the men of Concord meet the British, and whip them. 

Hawthorne's life here was pleasanter and happier than it had been at Salem. The 
love of his wife, the pleasure of his children, and the gradual success of his writ- 
ings put the gloomy days of the past out of sight, while the present and the future 
were lit up with comfort and happiness. His days of poverty and struggle were 



Nathaniel Hatvfhorne. i?99 

over. Before his marriage George Bancroft, the historian — then Collector of the 
Port of Boston — had obtained for him a place in the Boston Custom House, and 
not long after some other friends had secured from President Polk an appoint- 
ment for him as Surve3'or of the Port of Salem. These duties added to his in- 
come very much, and did not keep him from writing. 

In the ancient house at Concord he wrote a number of exquisite stories, whicli 
lie soon published in a book called " Mosses from an Old Manse," and four yeai-s 
after that. — while he was living again at Salem — to his everlasting renown, " Tlie 
Scarlet Letter " appeared. It was the first great novel written by an American/ 
and we have never had another that is likely to live as long or has been as nuich 
admired by cultivated critics all over the world. The next year he published ' ' The ' 
House of Seven Gables ;" the next, a story of the famous Brook Farm comnumity 
at Roxbury, near Boston, which he called " The Blithedale Romance," and the 
"Life of Franklin Pierce." These old college-mates were as close friends now 
as in the days when Pierce found pleasure in cheermg his melancholy companion 
out of his fits of gloom ; and, soon after he became President, Mr. Pierce appointed 
Hawthorne as United States Consul to Liverpool, which was probably the best- 
IKiying office in his gift. 

Now a man of wealth, influence, and fame, Hawthorne spent four years on 
government duty in England, and then some time in traveling on the Continent, 
writing meanwhile " The Marble Faun," which is thought by many people to be 
the best of all his works. 

When he returned to America he made his home, for the brief remainder of his 
life, in Concord, wiiere he bought a house near those of his friends, Emerson and 
Thoreau. " Our Old Home," a sketch of England and the English, was the only 
work that he published after coming back. His valuable and interesting " Note- 
Books on America, England, France, and Italy," and ''St. Septimius," came out 
after his death. 

The great place which Hawthorne's works have — higher than any other 
American novelist, living or dead — is not easy to describe, and is difficult foi- 
young people to understand. It is not chiefly in literary style, yet that, it is said, 
combines almost ever^^ excellence — elegance, simplicity, grace, clearness, and force ; 
it is rather great originality^ a rare power of analysis, a delicate and exquisite 
humor, and a marvelous use of words. The " Twice-Told Tales " are regarded as 
masterpieces of literary art, clear and simple in style, profound in sentiment, ex- 
act in thoug-ht, and rich in imagination. " He was," says one of our critics, " a pa- 
tient observer of the operations of spiritual laws, and relentless in recording- the 
results of his observations. In his novels the events occur in the hearts and minds 
of his characters, and our minds are fixed upon the souls rather than the outward 



400" One Hundred Famous Americans. 

•events and incidents we lind in his books. He is beyond compare the greatest 
romance Avriter of the ag-e, in an3^ country." 

• Nathaniel Hawthorne was born in Salem, Massachusetts,, July 4, 1804. He 
■died in Plymouth, Ncav Hampshire, May 19, 18G4. 

Wliile Cooper is the first and Hawthorne the greatest of American noveUsts, 
Harriet Beeclier Stowe is of all otliers the most famous. Her story of 
" Uncle Tom's Cabin," which came out nine years before the beginning- of the 
Civil War, was the most widely circidated and the most powerful book that has 
ever been published in America, and probably in the world. It told about people 
in the South who owned slaves, and about the slaves themselves, and though it 
showed that there were good people who upheld slavery, it also showed that the 
practice of slavery led to many evils, and ought to be stopped. All this was 
brought out by a most interesting- stor^'. Nothing- so strong- and convincing- had 
ever been written on this subject before, and the book made a sensation throug-h- 
out America and Europe. It has been translated into almost every known lan- 
guage, and although the cause for which it was written has long since been gained, 
the book still lives and is read with as much interest as ever by every new 
g-eneration. 

"When the story first came out it was by installments in the weekly journal 
called the National Era, published at Washington, D. C. Then it was issued in 
book-form by the famous old Boston house of John P. Jewett — scarcely another 
publisher in the United States would have dared to 'do it. He advertised far and 
wide, so tiiat the nation was waiting for it when it came, and when it came every 
one kncAv that its coming would be a great literary event; but it was more than 
that, it was a great political event. The arguments of statesmen, and the vei-- 
-dicts of juries wei-e overturned by its touching appeal to the heart and the 
imagination of the people. It did more than any ten public men toward form- 
ing- a sentiment against slav(?ry, towards building up the Republican party and 
•electing Abraham Lincoln to the Presidenc}', and raising- volunteers for the Civil 
Wai-, which meant a fight for no slavery to almost as many people as it meant 
a sti'uggle to keep the Union, 

Mrs. Stowe is the daughter of the famous Dr. Lyman Beecher, and is one of the 
most gifted members of his celebrated family. When they were little the children 
of this household were left ver}- often to take care of themselves ; they were sent 
to school and taught to be useful at home, but in their play they roamed through 
the fields and woods ])retty much as they pleased. Harriet was called a tom-boy 
because she could climb trees and ride hoi-ses as well as her brothers. She loved 
the wild flowers and the sky and hills. She says of herself : " I was educated 



Harriet Beecher Stoive. 401 

iirst and foremost by Nature, wonderful, beautiful, ever-chang-ing as she is in that 
cloudland, Litchfield." She was a mischievous little thing even when she was 
scarcely more than a baby, and she yet remembers that before she was five years 
old she persuaded her younger brothers and sisters to eat up a number of fine 
tulip-roots, by telling them that they were onions, and tasted good. Even then she 
had the power to make others think as she wished. She remembers too that when 
her mother found what she had done, she did not scold her, but kindly told her 
what beautiful flowers would have grown from those tulip-roots if, instead of 




Harriet Bef.cher Stowe. 

being eaten, they had been planted. Her mother's patience made little Harriet 
feel worse than the scolding would have done, and when that good, gentle mother 
died soon after, she grieved about all the naughty things she had done to trouble 
her, and resolved to be a better girl. 

When she was about seven years old, her older sister, Catherine, wrote of her : 
" Harriet is a very good girl ; she has been to school all this summer and has 
learned to read very fluently. She has committed to memory twenty-seven hymns 
and two long chapters in the Bible." 

There were then — as now — many cultivated people living in Litchfleld. It con- 
tained a very g-ood school, whose principal teacher, Mr, John Brace, had a gift of 



403 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

understanding- and encouraging each pupil. He took particular pains with Har- 
riet's compositions, and did much to teach her to write the g'ood, clear English 
wiiich is a delight in all her books. 

When she was thirteen her sister Catherine opened a school in Hartford, Con- 
necticut, and took Harriet with her. She not only studied hard in this school, hut 
very soon began to help teach, too, becoming a regular teacher there after her 
studies w^ere finished. 

When she was twenty-one her father moved to Ohio — very far West indeed that 
seemed then — and Catherine and Harriet gave up their school to go with him. 
Thej^ soon opened another school in Cincinnati, and, three years after, Harriet mar- 
ried Professor Stowe, who was then president of the Lane Theological Seminary, 
which her father had helped to found. 

Mrs. Stowe now lived for some time almost on the boundary line of the slave 
States. In Ohio there were no slaves, but just across the Ohio River in Kentucky 
there were many. When they tried to run away from their masters they usually 
started for Ohio, where there were several anti-slavery people to belt) them. Mrs. 
Stowe was herself an Abolitionist, and it touched her very deeply to see the poor 
creatures who tried to escape from cruel masters caught and dragged back to the 
life they hated, in spite of all that she and other white people could do for them. 
About this time the Abolition party, which had a strong force at Lane, was grow- 
ing very large and powerful. But they were condemned and despised by all " re- 
spectable citizens," for even in the North it was not thought to be to any one's, 
credit to put himself on the side of the negi'o. 

Long before, Mrs. Stowe had learned to hate slavery from an aunt, who, after 
spending a few^ years in the West Indies, where slavery was then practiced, had 
come back to New England and lived in Dr. Beecher's family when Han-ietwas a 
little girl. She now thought that if people could know what she knew of the 
negroes' sufferings, and the bad effect that slavery had on the white people, too, 
all kind-hearted and honest persons would sur«ly become Abolitionists. It was 
with this motive that she resolved to write "Uncle Tom's Cabin.'" She was 
poor and had several little children, and was very busy from morning till night, 
but — often with her foot on the cradle and her writing-paper in her lap— she 
found time to write her great novel. 

Before this she had published in the papers several short stories, but she had 
made no name and attracted no special attention. When "Uncle Tom's Cabin'* 
was finished she offered it to the editor of the National Era, at Washington, and 
he began to publish it. It attracted a great deal of attention at once, and w^e 
already know the story of it after it was put into book-form. Beside the work it 
wrought in changing the public mind about slaverj^, it brought her fame and a 



Harriet Beecher Stotve. 403 

great deal of money. Her name was a household word. The most eminent peo- 
ple of the world became her friends and correspondents, and she entered on a life 
of literar}'^ work tliat lasted for several years. 

She had left Cincinnati some time before this, moved with her husband to 
Brunswick, Maine, whei"e Dr. Stowe was made pi'of(?ssor in Bowdoin Colleg-e, and 
in 1854 they went to Europe, where she was welcomed and entertained by the 
greatest people in the world. 

Among- the many books that have come from Mrs, Stowe's pen since " Uncle 
Tom," "The Minister's Wooing" is thought to be the best, and next to that 
" Oldtown Folks," and " Sam Lawson's Stories," which are very able stories of 
New England Hfe and character. She has publislied about fifteen volumes alto- 
gether, all but a few being- novels. Some of them liavc made but little impression, 
thoug-h the " Minister's Wooing- " and " Oldtown Folks " are still ranked among 
the best of American fiction. 

Harriet Elizabeth Beecher- Stowe was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, June 
14, 1812. 



POETS AND ESSAYISTS. 



ONE of the first American authors who gained world-wide reputation and made 
a lasting- fame was William Culleii Bryant. He was a j)oet and a 
journalist, and thoug-h he will he rememhered chiefly' hy his poetry, his career as 
an editor for more than fifty years is one of the most remarkable in the history of 
American newspapers. 

Born in the latter part of the last century, and of active, powerful mind and 
earnest purpose, he took some part in most of the important national events of 
his time. He was the son of a New England physician, who was a man of edu- 
cation, taste, and judgment, and himself had a gift for poetry. His motlier was 
a good, bright, practical Yankee woman, and Mr. Bryant always said that his 
mother's love of right and justice at any cost had more than anything else given 
him his upright principles. Even when a baby Bryant showed an uncommon 
mind ; for he knew the alphabet when only sixteen months old. When he was 
nine years old he began to make verses, someoi which, he himself says, 'Svere 
utter nonesense," and he adds that his father tried to teach him that he must 
write only when he had something to say. His grandfather and father both took 
an interest in his writing, and both showed good judgment in their ways of teach- 
ing and encouraging the little poet. They often paid him for a poem they thought 
well done, but if it were not at all good they made him do it over. When he was 
ten years old he made some little verses, telling about the school he went to, that 
were published in the county newspaper ; and he had a copy of his own poetry 
actually in pi-int. About two years after this great event, an eclipse of the sun 
took place, about which he wrote a poem that is still preserved. It is interest- 
ing to see how much like his great poems it is, though of course not nearly so 
good as they are. It shows the same reverential, serious spirit which is seen in 
his best works, and the same close and affectionate observation of nature's works 
— the sky and trees and birds. When Bryant was a bo.y he learned to work on 
a farm, but the time when he was happiest was when the long winter evenings 
gave him leisure to read and write and think. It was a great event to him when, 



William Culleri Bryant. 



405 



one day, his father brought home Pope's translation of Homer's lUad. He thought 
it must be the finest poem that had ever been written. 

After a time he wrote another poem, which was pubUslied and attracted some 
attention. A second edition of it was broug-ht out in a book later, with a note 
from the publishers stating- positively that its author was but thirteen years of 
ag-e. This was done because people Avere saying that it could not have been writ- 
ten by a boy no older than that. 

When this gifted lad was sixteen he entered Williams College. Here he 
was a good student in all his classes, but was chiefly distinguished for his verse- 




Wn.LIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 



writing-, and for his talent for languag-es. Before he had finished his course 
his father told him he could no long-er support him at college, and he would 
have to leave. There was nothing to do but g-ive up his studies and do as his 
father said ; it was a great disappointment, and a loss that he regretted as long 
as he lived. 

About this time he wrote that g-reat poem, " Thanatopsis," which is said by 
critics to be the most remarkable literary production ever known to come from 
a person no more than seventeen 3'ears old. It was the first American poem 
that was really admired by any large number of people abroad, and it was also the 



406 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

first American poem that has hved to a lasting- fame. Mr. Bryant became a law- 
yer after leaving- colleg-e, and rose rapidly in that profession. But his heart was in 
his writing-, and wiien the publication of his " Thanatopsis " — several years after 
it was written — attracted the attention of literary men to him, he was anxious to 
leave the law and g-ive his whole time to writing-. In a short time the way opened. 
A fcAV 3'ears after the celebrated poem appeared he helped to establish and be- 
-gan to edit the New York Eeview. For this he came to New York, where he lived 
the remainder of his life. Many of his best poems were published in this mag-- 
iizine. Some also were printed in other papers ; and after about a year he joined 
the staff of the New York Evening Post, and to the end of his life he worked on 
that paper. During- most of the time he was its editor-in-chief. His reg-ular la- 
bors on this paper beg-an wiien it was about twenty years old ; and althoug-h 
there have been many men of ability connected with it, probably no one has ever 
done as much for its literary standing- as Mr. Bryant. It was then the leading 
Democratic paper of New" York, a power among- the people, and remarkable for 
its pure and manly tone. His career as an editor made for him many friends and 
admirers, for he was always dignified and fair-minded, and in politics stood firmly 
by the cause which he thought was right, independent of any party. 

Nine years after he moved to New York he took his family on his own and 
their first visit to Europe. Daring the trip he studied foreign languages, and added 
very much to his knowledge of general literature, which before that time had not 
been very broad or deep. On European journeys which he afterwards made he 
wTote letters to the Evening Post, which w^ere collected and published in a book. 
This was followed bj^ several other volumes of poems, brought out at different 
times during the rest of his life ; for active newspaper work did not crowd out the 
sweet strains of verse from his mind. Everything that he w^rote w^as always 
eagerly welcomed by the people, and for many years he was one of the most pop- 
ular living poets of the English language. In his poetry he described American 
scenery — our woods and fields, mountains and valleys — more beautifully and 
more accurately than any writer of his time ; and as a poet of nature he has still 
hardly an equal in this country. 

A celebrated English revieAver says : " He is the translator of the silent lan- 
guage of nature to the w^orld ; " an eminent American critic gives him a verj' 
high place among writers : " The serene beauty and thoughtul tenderness which 
characterize his descriptions or rather interpretations of outward objects are par- 
alleled only in Wordsworth. His poems are perfect of their kind. They address 
the finer instincts of our nature with a voice so winning and gentle— they search 
■with such subtle power all in the heart that is true and good — that their influence, 
though quiet, is resistless. Bryant's poems are not only valuable for their own 



Richard Henry Dana. 407 

literary worth, but also for the vast influence their wide circulation may exercise 
on national feelingis and manners. They purif3^ as well as please. In him we 
have a poet who can bring- the hues of nature into the crowded mart, and, by 
ennoblinor thoug-hts of man and his destiny, induce the most worldly to give their 
eyes occasional glance upward, and the most selfish to feel that the love of God 
and man is better than the love of Mammon." 

In his stately, white-haired old age, all America felt a pride in Mr. Bryant, 
He was called upon to grace important public occasions b}^ his presence ; he was 
asked to speak when great audiences were expected to listen to important matters, 
or when it was wanted to draw large crowds to bring forward questions of 
moment. 

William Cullen Bryant Avas born at Cumming-ton, Massachusetts, November 3, 
1794. He died in New York City, June 12, 1878. 

One of the best poets of Bryant's time was his friend Richard Henry Dana. 

He is almost forgotten now, except by a few who love good verse, and some g-en- 
eral readers who know of " The Buccaneer," But he was perhaps the most orig-inal 
poet we have ever had, and holds a high place with good critics, one of whom says : 
" Nothing is forced or foreign about his writings. The inward life of the man has 
found utterance in the rugged music of the poet. He seems never to have written 
from hearsay, or taken an^- of his opinions at second-hand. The mental powers 
displayed in his writings are of a high order. He possesses all the qualities which 
distinguish the poet — ^acute observation of nature, a deep feeling of beauty, a sug- 
gestive and shaping imagination, a strong and keen, though not dominant sensibil- 
ity, and a large command of expression." 

Mr. Dana also wrote novels that were full of dark passion and stern moral 
purpose. They did not please the public very well, but his reviews and criticisms 
were among the best. In 1821 — when he was thirty-four years old — he wrote a 
paper on Edmund Kean, the great English actor, which is said to still be the 
finest piece of theatrical criticism in American literature, 

Mr. Dana was about seven years older than Mr. Bryant, and like him was a 
native of Massachusetts ; he also left college — Harvard — before finishing his 
■ course, and after practicing law for a time gave it up to be a writer. After awhile 
he became a popular lecturer, especially on Shakespeare. He never rose to the 
great fame of Mr. Bryant, but in his day he was one of the most noted men of 
letters in the country. 

Richard Henry Dana was born November 15, 1787, at Cambridge, Massachu- 
:setts. where he died, February 2, 1879. 



408 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Anothei' poet, Avho was one of the most popular wi'iters in America twenty^ 
years ag-o or less, was Fitzgreeiie Halleck. He came of a famous New Eng- 
land stock, his mother bein^" a descendant of noble old clergyman John Eliot, the 
"Apostle of the Indians ; "' bnt his home for the most part was in New York City. 
With little education, althoug-h a larg-e g-ift for writing verses, he was not able to 
get into any veiy advanced })osition in life; when he was about eighteen years 
old he entered a banking-house in New York, where he remained as a clerk for a 
number of years. Meanwhile he wrote. He formed a literary partnership with the 
gifted young writer, Joseph Rodman Drake ; their poems were published under 
the pen-name of Croak(U' & Co., in the Evening Post, and afterwards collected in a 
book called the " Croaker Papers." Halleck's first verses attracted a good deal of 
notice, and when in a couple of years he brought out the clever satire on politics 
and society, entitled " Fanny," he became exceedingly popular. After that he 
went to Europe for awhile, and upon his return published " Marco Bozzaris," a 
poem of a different kind, and one which still ranks as among the finest martial 
lyrics in the English language. At about the same time, he wrote some beautiful 
lines on the memory of the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns. " I am not sure,'" 
said Mr. Biyant, then of the Post, "that these verses are not the finest in which 
one poet celebrates another." "Alnwick Castle," " Connecticut," and " Red 
Jacket " are also poems of Halleck's that received sincere admiration from the 
best judges of his time. They show a facility, a sweetness, and a grace which is 
seldom equaled by any of our present writers, and which give him a place as a 
gifted poet, if not a great one. 

These few poems are standing the test of time, and will probably always be 
read and admired, but in many of Mr. Halleck's other works there are qualities- 
that seem out of place in poetry. They struck the taste of people at the time, but 
they were not of the sort that live. One of our critics says, the ludicrous and the 
sad are face to face so often that we burst into mirth in the midst of tears. " The 
loftiness, purity, and tenderness of feeling- which Halleck can so well express 
when he pleases, and the delicate, graceful fancies with which he can festoon 
thought and emotion should never be associated with what is mean or ridiculous,. 
even to gratify wit or whim." 

Fitzgreene Halleck was boi-n on the 8th of July, 1790, at Guilford, Connecticut,, 
where he died, November 17, 18G7. 

Henry Wadswortli Longfellow is the most widely popular of American 
poets. His beautiful, refined, and gentle poems are read by all ages and all classes- 
of people, wherever the English language is spoken. His father Avas an eminent 
lawyer in Portland, Maine; his mother was fond of music and poetry,, and It 



Henry IVadsworth Longfellow. 



4()<F 



was from her, Longfellow believed, that he inherited his imag-ination and taste 
for romance. When he was only eight months old his mother wrote of him, " He 
is an active rogue, and wishes for nothing so much as singing and dancing. ' ' He 
was a sweet-tempered, unselfish little fellow, too. The first letter he ever wrote 
was sent to his father when he was seven years old ; he began by asking his father 
to bring home a little Bible for his younger sister, who wanted one very much, and 




Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 



then, when he reached the last line of his letter, he told about the drum he wanted 
for himself. Such thoughtfulness for others before himself was as marked all his 
life as in this little childish letter. There were also an uprightness and high sense 
of honor in Mr. Longfollow's character, as well as a gentleness and refinement of 
feeling, that were admired by those who knew him more than it is possible to ad- 
mire any written poetry, ho^vever beautiful. His life itself was a poem, full of 
goodness and truth. 



410 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

He was a handsome little boy, with brown curls, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks; and 
as he g-rew up he became equally handsome as a man. Even when he was old and 
w^hite-haired, he was the most beautiful, venerable person that the visitors to 
Cambridge ever saw. His first verses were written when he was thirteen years 
old ; he sent them to a town paper, and waited eagerly to see whether or not they 
would be published. Yes, they were ! How excitedl^^ happy he felt ! That is 
until he heard some one — who had no idea who wrote them — say they were " very 
poor stutr."' That chang-ed all his happiness into misery. Still, he soon made up 
his mind to write some more and try and do better. After that a number of his 
pieces Avere published in the Portland Gazeite. Meanwhile he had some more 
.serious studies than poetry, and when he was fourteen he entered Bowdoin Col- 
lege, at Brunswick, Maine. Here he was particularly distinguished for his blame- 
less and orderly life. He was merry and fond of amusement, but, as one of his 
•classmates said, "it seemed easy for him to avoid the unworthy." As a student 
he was more noted in composition than for anything- else ; he wrote uncommonly 
well, both in prose and verse. When he graduated he would have been class 
poet, but that his standing was so good that he had the higher honor of deliver- 
ing- the English Salutatory. 

Soon after he graduated he was asked to return to Brunswick and take the chair 
of Modern Languages and Literature in the college. He accepted the appointment, 
but with the understanding that he should first pass some time in Europe to 
make himself better fitted for his duties. The next four years were spent in travel, 
in making himself better acquainted %vith foreig-n lang-uages, in reading- and writ- 
ing, and in leading a most happ^^ life. France, Spain, Italy, and Germany were 
visited and Avell studied, and when he returned he was — though only twenty-three 
years old — finely fitted for his -vvork. He performed his duties so well at BowTloin 
that after about six years he was offered the still more important professorship of 
Modern Languages and Belles-Lettres at Harvard College. Then he left Bowdoin 
to make his home in Cambridge for the rest of his life. As before, he made a trip 
abroad before taking up his duties. It was then that he lost the young- wife whom 
he loved most dearl^', and whose memory is preserved to the world in manj^ of his 
poems. She died and was buried in Holland. 

During these years of his 3'outh and early manhood Longfellow w^as writing as 
well as studying ; he was helping to make literature, while deeply interested in 
that made by others ; but he was so modest in his estimate of his own talents that 
he was unwilling to come before the public as an author until he had done his best 
to write something worthy of being printed. Four years after he w^ent to 
Cambridge, and when he was thirty-two years old, his romance called " Hj^pe- 
rion " appeared, and also a small collection of his poems, entitled " Voices of the 



Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 411 

Nig-ht." They attracted a great deal of attention, and at once raised him to a 
place of note and honor among- American poets. 

For nearly forty years after this he wrote almost steadily, and every few years 
the English-speaking people all over the world would rejoice that a new volume of 
Longfellow's poems was out. One of the most admired of all his writings is 
'' Evangeline," a beautiful story in beautiful verse, which, it is said by those who 
study poetry for its own sake, is the most perfect piece of rhyme and melody in 
English hexameter that is known. His next great work was the " Songs of 
Hiawatha," which is the most popular of all his poetry. That came out eight 
years after " Evangeline," and a year later he resigned his chair in Harvard 
Universit3^ In the next year, when he went to Europe, he was received every- 
where Avith marked attention. Both the great English Universities of Oxford and 
Cambridge honored him with their degrees of Doctor of Civil Law, and some of 
the most distinguished people of all the countries he visited welcomed him with 
cordiality and respect. 

After Mr. Longfellow's first trip abroad he was alwaj^s in the habit of making 
translations of some of the best ballad poetry in the European languages ; but in 
the year 1867, before his last visit to the Old World, he began to publish a careful 
and scholarly translation of the " Divine Comedy " of the celebrated Italian poet, 
Dante, which was far more important than any other translations he ever made. 
It makes three volumes altogether, the last of which came out the year after his 
return. Meantime, he also wrote some delightful works in prose, romances and 
books of travel. All his writings are fidl of simplicity, purity, and beauty. No 
word that does not tend to make men better and the world happier ever came from 
his pen. 

It has been said: the great characteristic of Longfellow is that of addressing the 
moral nature through imagination, of linkmg moral truth to intellectual beauty. 
In beautiful language, sweet, singing verse, and cultivated taste, both Dana and 
Bryant are probably as fine as he : but he has surpassed them in great thoughts of 
real importance. The '' Psalm of Life " touches the heroic string of our nature, 
breathes energy into our hearts, sustains our lagging purposes, and fixes our 
thoughts on that which lasts forever. He is a poet who has perfect command of 
expression. He selects with great delicacy and precision the exact phrase which 
best expresses or suggests his idea. He colors his style with the skill of a painter, 
and in compelling words to picture thought he not only has the warm flush and 
bright tints of language at his command, but he catches its changeful, passing 
hues. He idealizes real life ; he draws out new meaning from many of its rough 
shows : he clothes subtle and delicate thoughts in familiar imagery ; he embodies 
high moral sentiment in beautiful and ennobling forms ; he inweaves the golden 



412 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

thread of spiritual being- into the texture of common existence ; he discerns and 
addresses some of the finest sympathies of the heart ; but he rarely soars out 
of the range of common interests and sympathies. In '' The Psalm of Life "—our 
critic continues— in "Excelsior" and " The Light of Stars," Longfellow teaches 
us with much force to reckon earthly evils at their true worth, and to endure 
with patience what life brings us. '' The Village Blacksmith " and " God's Acre " 
have a roug-h grandeur, and "Maidenhood" and " Endymion " a soft, sweet, 
mystical charm which show to advantage the range of his powers. Perhaps 
" Maidenhood " is the most finely poetical of all his poems. The " Spanish Stu- 
dent," thoug-h it lacks the dramatic skill and power necessary to make a g-ood 
play, is one of the most beautiful poems in dialogue born in American literature. 
In it are to be seen the imagination, fancy, sentiment, and manner of the poet, fo*' 
it seems to comprehend the whole of his genius, and to display all the powers of 
its author as none of his other works do. 

In all, from the first to the last, Mr. Longfellow's writings, like his life, were 
simple and noble, beautiful and good. Few great men have had such a happy life 
as he, whom we call the Cambridge Bard. Unlike many poets, he never had to 
struggle with poverty, or to live lonely and unappreciated. His gifts were at once 
recognized, and friends, wealth, and fame came to him without waiting. He was 
not free from sadness, though. Years after the first Mrs. Longfellow's death, he 
married again; and in 1861 this lady met her death b3^ a shocking- accident. 
While dressing for a party her clothes caught fire from a light in the room, and 
she was burned to death. 

Good fortune sometimes injures our characters more than trials ; but they did 
no harm to this sunny, gentle natui'e. If he had known all kinds of griefs, he 
could scarcely have been more sympathetic with all men, or more of a friend to 
the unfortunate than he was. 

Henry W. Longfellow was born at Portland, Maine, on February 27, 1807. 
He died in Cambridge, Massachusetts, March 24, 1882. 

In original genius, Edgar Allan Poe has probably been the g:reatest of all 
American poets. He also had wonderful gifts for story-writing, and thirty or 
forty 3'-ears ago " no critic's praise was more coveted than his, and no critic's 
blame more dreaded." He WTote poems from the time he was a boy, but did not 
take up literature for a profession until he was about twenty-four years old. He 
then became one of the workers on the Southern Literary Messenger, published 
at Richmond, Virginia. In a few years he had won a place upon other magazines- 
also, and in the year 1837 he moved to New York, where he soon became well 
known as a writer for some of the leading periodicals in the country, and also as. 



Edgar Allan Foe. 



413 



the author of the "Narrative of Arthur Gordon P^^m." In a couple of years 
more he was editor of the Gentleman's Magazine, at Philadelphia, and published 
his best stories in the volume entitled " Tales of the Arabesque and Grotesque." 
He was now looked upon as one of the most original, acute, and promising- writers 
of his time ; and when, in the year that he was thirty-six, his poem, " The Raven," 
-came out, his reputation rose to a world-wide fame. His other poems, "Annabel 
Lee " and " The Bells," and his stories of '* The Gold Bug," " The Purloined Let- 
ter," "The Murders of Rue Morgue," and "The Fall of the House of Usher," 




Edgar Allan Poe. 

were accepted b}^ the public as writings of great merit, and at once took a lasting 
place in English literature. 

Poe's genius and style of writing was wild, weird, and unearthly, poured out 
of a calm, fertile, and delicate mind of uncommon powers of imagination. His 
poetry was wonderful, his prose was often as beautiful as verse, and his criticisms 
" selected every minute thread of thought, and seized every fleeting shade of feel- 
ing," using on thein rarely combined powers of reason and fancy, so that he was 
in his day the leading censor of all American literature. But — says his critic — 
one of two things was necessary to quicken his mind into full activity. The 
first was a personal grudge, the second was some chance suggestion which 



414 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

awakened and tasked all the resources of his mind. The character of Poe's writ- 
ings is like a mirror reflecting- his nature. His works tell much of his own feeling- 
about himself, but little of his life as others saw it. He was — it has been said — 
an oi-iginal genius of high and rare order, a master of melancholy fitful and 
beautiful, but " like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh." His g-enius was 
slig-ht, small in quantity, and not of a broad range, yet in his poetry — and per- 
haps in his prose — it ranks above everything- of its kind that America has ever 
produced. His keen, clear, lyrical, and musical verse, when at its best, is 
scarcely surpassed by poet of any age or country. But through almost all of 
it there is a shadow of melancholy, misery, and gloom. In this we find the key- 
note of the nature of the man. 

As an author, Poe had success ; as a man his life was a miserable failure. 

His father was a Virg-inian, the son of General Poe, a distinguished officer in 
the Revolutionary Arni}^ ; his mother was a beautiful English actress ])laying- in 
Boston at the time Edg-ar was born. Both his parents died of consumption when 
they were very 3^0 ung, leaving- three bab^^ orphans without a home. Edgar, the 
middle child, was adopted by a wealthy merchant, Mr. John Allan, who gave the 
little boy his own name and took' him to his wife in their home at Richmond, Vir- 
g-inia. When the little fellow was seven 3^ears old Mr. and Mrs. Allan took him 
to England and put him in the celebrated boys' school at Stoke Newington, 
Ever^'thing that money could buy Edg-ar's foster parents g-ave him, but he 
3'earned for a tender love and sympathy for his feeling-s, which they could not be- 
stow. In place of this he found g-reat comfort with animals. Some of the happi- 
est hours of his boyhood were spent with the dumb brutes that he loved to feed 
and caress ; and as he grew older, he made many ver^'^ devoted friends. 

It was during- one of the vacations from the English school that he came to 
know the good and beautiful lady who is so often mentioned in his poems. She 
was the mother of one of his schoolmates, by whom Poe had been taken home for 
a visit. When he arrived she received him so cordially and talked to him with so 
much kindness that he became strongly attached to her at once. The visit was 
often repeated, and as long as the lady lived Poe loved her with the greatest devo- 
tion. She was his confidante and a friend uito whose ear he poured all the longings, 
the troubles, and the many other secrets of his peculiar poetic temperament. 
Her death was an overAvhelming- grief to him. Many sorrowful hours of mourn- 
ing he spent over her g-rave, dwelhng- upon the weird and gloomy fancies that 
stamp his genius as different from all others. The poem, "To Helen," is ad- 
dressed to this lady, and so is " Lenore," which was written with another name 
when he was a bo3% and was not revised and published in the form familiar to u^ 
until several vears after lie had become a man. 



Edgar Allan Poe. 415 

After five years in Eng-land, Mr. and Mrs. Allan came back to America, bring-- 
ing- Edgar ^^ith them and placing- him in an academy at Richmond, which he at- 
tended until he was seventeen years old, then entering the University of Char- 
lottesville. He was a quick and able student, but by this time the sad faults of his 
character were becoming- very strong, and after only one year he left tlie univer- 
sity with a great many gambling debts. Going back to Richmond, he lived with 
his foster parents for a couple of years, not seriously employing himself in any 
wa^^ except in writing poems, which he published in a volume in the year 1829. 
This was his first step into literature, but neither he nor his foster fathei- ex- 
pected him to become a man of letters by profession. They sometimes talked to- 
gether about the young man's future, and then Edgar said that he would hke to 
enter the army. So in a few years Mr. Allan secured for him an appointment ta 
West Point. Here he went further in the career begun at Charlottesville, 
neglecting his studies, drinking and g-aming till, in the spring: of ISGl, he 
was cashiered and sent home in disgrace. Still patient and forbearing, his 
foster father received him kindh' and treated him well. But a short time 
after his return he committed a deed so unprincipled in itself, so mean and 
ungi^teful toward the gentleman who had given him unhmited benefits all his 
fife, that Mr. Allan— justly and deeply offended — refused to be his father any 
longer, commanding him to leave his house and never to look to him again for 
home or support. 

Edgar Allan Poe, as he now called himself, was then about twenty-three years 
old, handsome in looks, wimiing in manners, rich in genius, with a strong though 
selfish love for some people, and no principle. He had many ^ices, was uug-rate- 
ful to those who did the most for him, dishonest about money, and disloyal to his 
friends in all points of honor that stood in the way of his desires, whatever they 
might happen to be. 

Having now to earn his OAvn living, he chose literature as his profession, and 
soon found regular employment in Richmond on the Southern Literary Messen- 
ger. In a short time he married his cousin. Virginia Clemm, who was a young 
and saintly creature, as poor as her husband, and about as little able to take 
care of herself. This lady and her mother loved Poe with the gi^eatest devotion, 
while they also suffered more than any one else at his hands. Mrs. Clemm was 
—as Poe says in a beautiful poem—" more than mother "' to him. 

Shortly after their marriage they came to Xew York, where, in 1848. ^Mrs. Poe 
died, shamefully left by her husband to the tender mercies of strangers, while he, 
m fitful mood, sought the society of others, repentant when he realized what he 
was doing, then forgetful when moved by his own selfish impulses or under the 
influence of liquor. This last was sometunes the case, but Poe was not a drunk- 



416 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

ard, as many people believe ; and he often strove very hard against the other 
faults of his unfoi'tunate nature. 

These Avere the years of his great literary success. Of fame he soon had a 
full share, and also of friends, for in spite of his vices he was fascinating- and 
lovable. 

The year after " sweet Virginia " died he returned to Richmond, and was soon 
engaged to marr}^ another lady. On his way back from this visit, in some way 
that is not known, he became lost in Baltimore one evening, and after passing a 
night in the streets of the city, lying unconscious Avith his face to the open sky, 
he was taken to the Washington College Hospital, where he died the next day — 
not from the efTect of licjuor, as has been stated, but of exhaustion and exposure. 

Edgar Allan Foe was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in January, 1809 — the 
day of the month is unknown ; it is often stated as the 19th, but that is incorrect ; 
it was some time before that day. He died in Baltimore, Maryland, October 7, 
1849. 

The most truly American of all our poets is Joliu Greenleaf Wliittier, 

He has been little influenced by the literature of other countries, his style is 
his own. He rose into fame b}^ his stirring poems against American slavery in 
the old Abolition days, and nearly all his other works are upon the legends, the 
scenery, and the life of America. He is now the only living representative of 
our four great poets, who were the first to attract any wide notice abroad, and 
to make a lasting fame in their own country. Poe, first of all, and after him 
both Longfellow and Bryant, have a greater fame abroad than Mr. Whittier, 
who is a modest, quiet New Englander by birth and a Quaker in religion. 

During his childhood he saw and felt a great deal of the old Quaker persecu- 
tion by the Puritans ; and it was the bitter, narrow-minded hatred of one sect for 
another that made him realize, wiien very young, the great value of generous 
Christian feeling and In-otherly love. This is the chief lesson he has tried to teach 
through all of his writings — and that every person should be allowed to think for 
himself, and be free to act according to his own conscience. 

He was born and brought up in the countiy, and in the country he has always 
lived ; he loves nature, the forests and fields and rivers, and says much that is 
beautiful and true about them in his poetry, though his love for his fellow-men 
and desire for their good is the great thought in his writings. 

He . began making verses when he was a boy following the plow ; and before 
he was grown he sent some of them to a little country weekly paper called the 
Haverhill Gazette. He was very much afraid that the editor would not accept 
the first poem that he sent, in and it was with a great, surprising delight to him 



John Oreenleaf Whittier. 



417 



when one day he opened the paper and actuallj^ saw his Unes in piint ; he was 
quite overcome and sat down by the roadside for a long- time before he could go 
on his way home. 

His boy life was spent mostly in hard work on the farm and at shoemaking-. 
In winter lie went to the district school, and read over and over the few books his 




John Greenleaf Whittier. 

father owned. For years these were the only books he saw, for in the little Mas- 
sachusetts town of Haverhill there were then no public libraries, no reading clubs, 
and not even a debating society to sharpen the wits of the young- folks. When 
Whittier was eighteen years old he spent a year at an academy or high school ; 
that closed his schooling-. But he used even these poor chances for study so well 
that when he was twentj^-two years old he became editoi' of a paper in Boston, 



418 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

and in the next year took a still more important position as editor of the Neur 
England Weekly Eeview. The year after this he published his first book, which 
was not poetry, but a volume of prose sketches and leg'ends upon the life of the- 
early colonists and the American Indians. He had a g-reat deal of interest in 
these subjects, and soon began to tell us manj^ Indian tales and stories of the 
early Puritans in verse. Three years passed ; he wrote on many matters and 
printed one essay on slavery ; he was even then strongly opposed to it, and allied 
himself with the Abolitionists, his streng-th g-rowing- with that of the society, till 
in later years he was one of the greatest and most influential anti-slavery men. 
in the country. 

He gave up his (Hlitorship after three years because he had ))een elected a mem- 
ber of the Legislatui-e of Massachusetts, and over a year after that event he pub- 
lished his first volume of poetry. This was when he was twenty-eight years old 
and still a long way from being known as a great pocti. 

About this time the slaver,>' agitation was growing much sti'onger than it had 
ever been before. Whittier was helping it along grandly with his pen, and three 
,^'ears after the Anti-Slavery Society was formed in Philadelphia he removed to 
the Quaker City to become its secretary and to edit the Peint.sijlvcDiia Freeman. 
Thus his time, talents, and zeal were mostly taken up in the cause of the negroes 
for several years. During the time he wrote many anti-slavery poems, which 
were collected in a volume called " Voices of Freedom," and published ten years 
after his first book of verses came out. They were far ahead of an^-thing' he had 
written before, and atti'acted a good deal of attention both at home and abroad. 
Every year or two after this saw a fresh volume from the pen of the new Ameri- 
can poet, and from that time onward his fame has grown steadily. During the 
Rebellion he wrote many verses about the slaves, and about the scenes of war, all 
of which were read and copied and learned throughout the length and bi-eadth of 
the North. 

Next to his war poems and those on slavery Mr. Whittier's best verses are- 
upon farm life and country scenes ; and now that the peace is with us and the ne- 
groes are free, p(M)pl(; take the greatest pleasure in his Ava-itings about home life, 
and the noble, religious sentiments that he expresses in his later works. As a 
poet he stands high in the literary world, but he says himself that his first aim 
lias never been so much to write fine poetry as to write truths that Avoidd make 
people think and do right; other American poets liave written on more varied 
subjects, and have shown a richer imagination than Whittier, but none have been 
purer in their works or their lives, and none have given us such beautiful pictures- 
of many phases of American life and American feeling. 

One of our greatest critics says : Whittier has the soul of a great poet. He has- 



Oliver Wendell Holmes. 419 

that vig-or, truthfulness, and manliness of character; that freedom from conven- 
tional shaclvles, regardless of anybody's idea of what is " higli " or " low; " tliat 
native energy and independence of nature, wdiich form the basis of the cliaracter 
of every g-reat g'enius, and without which poetry is apt to be a mere echo of the 
drawing-room, and to idealize affectations instead of realities. His early poems 
were written when the country was tolerating-, even encouraging-, g-reat wrongs 
against which was roused all the nobility of the man and the fire of the poet. 
He seems in some of his lyrics to pour out his blood with his lines. There is 
a rush of passion in his verse which sweeps everything- along- with it. His later 
poems show more subtle imag-ination and delicate feeling- as well as truculent 
energy. There is so much spiritual beauty in these little compositions that it is 
hard to understand how they can come from the man who awhile befbre poured 
out fiery torrents of passionate feeling ag-ainst the wrongs connnitted by his fel- 
low-men. 

When he was about thirty-two, Mr. Whittier moved from Haverhill, Massa- 
chusetts, to Amesbury, and leaving- there a few years ag-o he went to Danvers, 
where he has lived — still a bachelor — ever since. His honor as a poet is heig-htened 
to all his countrymen by his blameless, uprig-ht life. In his noble old ag-e he is 
loved by all who know liim and reverenced by the whole nation. 

His life has been so quiet and uneventful that its story is soon told; but his 
influence for g-ood upon his countrymen has been g-reater than that of most men 
who have taken prominent parts in public events. 

He has always shown a g-reat love for children and interest in their education 
and improvement, and in -late years he has oftener come before the public as 
a writer of letters to children than in any other way. 

Mr. Whittier was born in Haverhill, Massachusetts, December 17, 1808. 

One year younger than Whittier, and also a native of Massachusetts, is 
Oliver Wendell Holmes, famous as a wit, a poet, a writer of excellent prose, 
and a man of science. His whole life has been associated with the vicinity of Bos- 
ton. He was born in Cambridge — before this century reached its teens — in the 
old " gambrel-roofed " house that still stands facing Harvard College— from 
which he graduated when he was twenty years old, and with which he has been 
closely connected for more than fifty years. His first verses were written for 
the Collegian, a paper conducted by the students, and many of his smaller poems 
havf; been written for the different reunions of his class— that of 1829. 

He started to study law after his gi\aduation from Harvard, but soon decided 
to take up his father's profession and become a physician. Going to Europe he 
devoted himself to three years of very careful study in the hospitals of Paris and 



420 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

other large cities. After he came l)ack to America lie graduated Irom the Har- 
vard Medical School, and beg-an a very skillful and successful career. Two years 
after receiving- his dii^lonia he took the chair of anatomy and pl^ysiology at Dart- 
mouth Collegre, at Hanover, New Hampshire. Nine years afterward he was called 
to the same position in the Harvard Medical School, which is in Boston. Remov- 
ing- to that city when he was thirtj'-eig'ht years old, he has made it his home, and 
lecturing- in medicine his woi-k, ever since. 

Dr. Holmes distiiig-uished liimself as a poet while he was a student at Cam- 
bridg-e. The year that he g-i-aduated fi-om the Medical School, he published a vol- 
ume of poems, and althoug-h he on! 3^ g-ave leisure time to writing-, Ms g-enius became 
quite well known ; and ten years after he returned to the school as a lecturer he 
helped to fomid the famous Boston mag-azine, called the Atlantic Monthly; for this 
he wrote a series of sensible, rather humorous essays called the "Autocrat of the 
Breakfast-Table," which attracted a g-reat deal of attention and praise, and won at 
once a lasting- place in our literature. These papers and some of his other contribu- 
tions did a great deal to inake the magazine a success, and also raised the name of 
Dr. Holmes to a place among the great writers of this century. They were followed 
by the ''Poet" and by the "Professor at the Breakfast-Table," all of which 
abound in humor and wit and show a shrewd insight mto human nature. These 
traits are also shown in many of his funny poems, of which the " One-Horse 
Shay " is the best known. As a song-writer — especially playful songs — he prob- 
ably stands above every other living American writer. 

There is no other American poet who can so successfully blend ludicrous ideas 
with fancy and imagination, keeping at the same time the high poetic qualities of 
sentiment and wording that are seen in serious poetry. This is what it is to be a 
real comic poet, and a difficult and rare branch of art it is. Man^^ people can put 
a jest or a sharp saying into rhyme and do it so cleverly that thej' may be said to 
write good comic verse, but A'erse is not poetry. 

Holmes does not write his funny poetry merely to make people laugh. With 
his happy phrases he hits otT the harmful and also the harmless faults of people 
in a way that helps but does not offend. He holds the mirror up to nature wittily 
and good-tejiipercdly, letting us " see oursel's as ithers see us," with a swift bit of 
sarcasm now and then to drive the shaft home. 

It is not always in a funny vein that this genial man of genius writes. He is a 
lover of his fellow-men, of nature, and of science, and many of his best works have 
been in solemn appreciation pf these things. The " Chambered Nautilus," and the 
"Avis," with many of his hymns and other compositions, are serious, deeply 
thoughtful, and poetic works that for beauty and sentiment have few equals in 
the English language. He is — says one of our g-reat critics — a poet of sentiment 



Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



421 



and passion; "Old Ironsides," "The Steamboat," " Qui Vi'^-e," and many pas- 
sages in " Poetry," show a true l^^rical fire and inspiration; in these poems of 
fancy and sentiment there is so mucli exceeding- riclmess and softness in his diction 
that he would be almost too soft a poet but for the manly energy that shows itself 




-Vi--^^. 



OLrs'ER Wendfxl Holmes. 



and the keen sense of the ridiculous which gives the finishing touch that makes 
the complete and striking whole. Unlike Halleck, Holmes alwa^^s seems to bring- 
in his witty strokes at just the proper place. 

Dr. Holmes is also a student of the science of the mind — called ps3'chology — 
upon which he has written several very important scientific essays and one remark- 
able and singular romance, called "Elsie Venner." 

He is now an aged man — though few people realize it — and leads a busy, happy 



422 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

life, surrounded hy many friends ; he is full of interest in the world's affairs and 
is always one of the first chosen to do honor to a distinguished guest in Boston 
or to celebrate a great event, A few j^ears ago he was one of the most popular 
lecturers in the country, but he seldom makes long public addresses nowadays. 

In the midst of all these literary labors and many duties of social and public 
life, the doctor's most serimis work has been in his profession, where he is very 
' skillful, both in theory and practice, and for which he has written many valuable 
essays, beside his regular lectures to the Harvard students. 

Dr. Holmes was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, Augufet 29, 1809. 

Among all our living men of letters, James Russell Lowell stands high- 
est abroad. He has a greater name in Europe than in his own country ; Amer- 
icans are only beginning to realize his true worth, though we have always 
known him to be a poet, wit, critic, and scholar of more than usual gifts and abil- 
ity. Some of our best critics began long ago to point out to us his merit. One 
of them has said : **' He has shown the highest creative genius, with happiest facil- 
ity in expression. His early satires display unmatched wit and brilliant humor. 
While not so popular as others, some of his poems must be regarded as the gems 
of American literature. Excelling in poetry he tried ci'iticism, and in that broad, 
humane art produced, some of the finest prose." Another writer says : " His es- 
says on nature are bi'iuiful of delicious descriptions, and his critical papers on 
some of the great authors of the Old Woi-ld are masterpieces of their kind." 

Truly great as a scholar, a poet, and an essayist, Lowell stands above ever^- 
one else in his knowledge of the Yankee dialect. He is almost the only writer who 
uses the peculiar New England forms of speech correctly — that is, as the Yankees 
do themselves. For this reason Mr. Lowell's greatest fame rests on the " Bige- 
low Papers," the first of which were published in the Boston Courier in the year 
1848 — when the author was twenty-nine j^ears old. Though he had written a good 
many poems and essays which have since been read a great deal, his work had 
attracted very little notice so far ; but the coming out of these witty, shrewdly- 
sensible chapters of verses, giving in the real dialect and in a thoroughly Yankee 
Avay the opinions of " John P. Bigelow " against the Mexican War and the slave 
power, drew forth the interest and hearty jiraise of half the country, or more. 
The people he made fun of did not like the jjapers of course, but even they read 
them. When a second series upon the Civil War appeared, satirizing the neutral 
position taken toward us by England, Mr. Lowell was without a doubt the most 
popular humorous writer in the country. The best parts of these poems — which 
vary a good deal in excellence — are scarcely equalled, either in wit or in language, 
b^' anything of the kind in English literature. Between the times in which these 
two series came out, the world learned that Mr. Lowell's genius was of a very 



James Russell Loivell. 



423 



broad and what is called versatile sort. He had noble, serious thoughts, they 
found. The "Leg-end of Brittany," the "Vision of Sir Launfal," and a number 
of other smaller poems of rare merit that had come' out before 1848 were read and 
appreciated, and also the prose work, " Conversations on Some of the Old Poets," 
which, a celebrated teacher says, every lover of literature should read. 

In 1854, when Longfellow resigned from the chair of Belles Lettres at Harvard, 
Lowell was asked to take his place. He returned to the grand old university a 




James Russell Lowell. 

little more than fifteen years after he graduated from it — now a great man 
with a famous name, then a lad of \^oov standing in everything but literature and 
general knowledge. He only got his diploma because the faculty knew he had a 
great deal of ability in his own way, and that he bore the reputation of being the 
best read man that had ever passed through the college course. He was only 
nineteen years old then, and had spent more time in reading the best works he 
could find and following studies of his own choice than in poring over text-books. 
He did not by any means waste time at Harvard ; he read more in a month than 
many young men do in their whole lives. 

He had studied law for a time after he graduated, hut that, too, was neglected 



424 One Htmdred Famous Americans. 

for letters, and now at the age of thirty-five he was taking the place of one' of the- 
most celebrated writers in the world in one of the greatest universities in America. 
He had not made a mistake in following his natural bent. 

Professor Lowell's home in Cambridge was the beautiful old-fashioned house, 
.called "Elmwood" — the one in which he was born, where he has always lived 
when in America. Here his father, a clergyman of the old line of New England 
Lowells, had lived, here he had spent his babyhood when his mother used to sing- 
him to sleep with famous old English ballads ; here he had passed his boyhood, 
and grown into manhood amid surroundings of refinement and culture. His 
father was a man of learning and eloquence ; rare and valuable books filled the 
library ; men and women of great minds visited the house, and gifted lads were 
his playmates — among them, W. W. Story, the sculptor and poet, and the- 
younger Richard Henr^^ Dana, author of " Two Years Before the Mast." In this 
noble, elm-sheltered mansion, he had written his earl}^ works, and to this home he 
had brought his sweet wife, Maria White — herself a poet — and it was from there 
that her spirit fled, when — as Mr. Longfellow wrote to his bereaved friend in the^ 
poem of the " Two Angels " — 

" The angel with the amaranthine wreath, 
Pausmg, descended, and with voice divine. 
Whispered a word that had a sound like death. 



And softly from that hushed and darkened room 
Two angels issued, where but one went in." 



Mrs. Lowell's death came tw^o years before her husband began to lecture at 
Harvard ; and four years before he became the editor of the then newly started 
magazine called the Atlantic Monthly — a position that he held for about five^ 
years, to the great benefit of the magazine. 

In his early da^'s he had made a vain attempt to found an excellent literary 
journal in the Pioneer, but he had failed. Now the country was nearer ready for it, 
and he met with great success. Meanwhile, and thi-ough all after years, he has. 
kept on w^riting, and from time to time publishing, volumes of poems, grave and 
gay ; and prose essays, full of wit, wasdoni, and sound criticism, so that it has 
long been said that Mr. Lowell has no equal among American writers in what is 
called versatility— that is, the ability to do many things and do them well. There 
is a union of mental strength with poetic delicacy in his work that is very unusual 
in the writings of one man. 

The American Government does not pay as much honor to American authors, 
as do most for-eign governments to the writei-s of their countries, but it has long 
been a custora m the United States to appoint prominent authors to represent our 



Ralph Waldo Emerson. 425 

country abroad. When Mr. Hayes was President he sent Mr. Lowell as United 
States Minister to Spain ; two years later he was given the still more important 
ministry at the Court of St. James, in London. He proved himself to be a worthy 
representative, and was so much liked in England that many tempting offers Avere 
made to induce him to remain there after his term of office was over. His noble 
bearing, refined, handsome face, gracious manners, and delicate tact, as well as his 
great mind, won for him much admiration and many friends. The Universities of 
Oxford and Cambridge bestowed upon him some of their highest degrees for his 
genius and scholarship, and about three years ago he was chosen Lord Rector of 
St. Andrew's University in Scotland. But, though he has much love for Great 
Britain and the people there who have given him tlieir confidence and cordial 
praises, he is still an American, and feels that he would not like to settle for the 
remainder of his life in any other land. 

James Russell Lowell was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, February 23, 
1819. 

Although many American authors liave been successful writers of both poetry 
and prose essays, none can compare with Ralph Waldo Emerson in actual 
greatness of thought. He was born in Boston soon after the opening of this cen- 
tury, and his long, peaceful, busy life was one of steady influence for good upon 
the minds and life of the whole civilized world. In his writings he has left an 
ever-lasting and ever-growing impression upon all modern literature. As a 
philosopher and essayist he is far beyond every other American, and few are 
equal to him as a poet. In all countries he is regarded as one of the great 
men of his age. 

He came from a long line of Puritan ministers, all of his Emerson grandfathers 
for seven generations having been preachers of the Gospel in New England. His 
parents designed him for the same calling, although he did not seem to be partic- 
ularly bright or clever about study when he was a little boy. At the age of eight 
years he was first sent to the Boston public school, where he was faithful and 
studious if not brilliant; and when he was eleven years old he made better trans- 
lations from his Virgil than most of the bo^^s in his class. His grandmother, Mrs, 
Ripley, wife of the famous old Concord pastor, and a very highly educated lady, 
took a great interest in her good little grandson, and in his progress in study. 
They used to write letters to each other in Greek when he was still in the public 
school. He was but fourteen years old when he entered Harvard College. There 
he was more interested in the books in the library than in his regular studies, and 
though he was not idle, his rank in general work was nothing more than medium 
high. But in some things he excelled, for, during the course, he took two prizes 



426 One Hundred Famous Ainericans. 

for Avritten essays and one for a declamation, and when his class graduated he was 
appointed by them the class-day poet. 

After he was through college he taught for five years in the school for girls 
kept by his brother William in Boston. At the same time he studied theolog}^ so 
as to be able before long to become a clergyman. 

He was such an earnest, truthful man, and so full of thought about religious 
matters, that it was natural for him to feel that he could probably do more good 
as a minister than in any other profession. Having studied verj^ broadly and 
deeply' he took a high position as soon as he entered the clergymen's ranks, and 
at the age of twenty-six 3^ears, he was ordained as a fellow-worker of the Rev. 
Henry Ware in the Second Unitarian Church in Boston. 

He did not keep this position long ; it was liis nature to think for himself about 
things, and he was very apt to think differently from the people around him ; he 
soon found tliat he did not think and feel about some Chi'istian customs and doc- 
trines as did the other people in his church; he did not want to force them to think 
as he did, and he did not want to make any trouble in the church, so in less than 
three years he resigned his position, and withdrew from the ministry entirely. 
This made a great stir in the church in Boston, and in many places fui-ther away. 
People thougiit it very strange and talked a gi-eat deal about it ; but Emerson 
knew his own mind and quietly carried out his purposes, much to the sorrow of 
his congregation, who were veiy^ fond of him. 

After this he went to Europe, and though he was an unknown man himself 
then, he met and made a life-long friendship with the great English writer, Thomas 
Carlyle. Tliis meeting was one of the most important events that ever happened 
to either of them. 

It was after Emerson came back from this visit that he gave his first lecture, 
beginning his great career as a public speaker, before the Boston Manufacturers' 
Institute in his native city. He was not what we usuall^y call an eloquent man, 
and he had not a commanding pi-esence ; but he had great thoughts, rich language, 
and force and power in all that he said, so that people who were the sort to care 
for wliat he had to say, listened intently and cherished every word lie let fall. He 
was tall and thin, and had a singulai-, sti-ong-featin^edface ; this was not handsome, 
but there was a great charm in its expression, which was often remarkably sweet 
and kindly. " A smile breaks over his countenance like day over the sky," George 
William Curtis once said of him. He soon spoke in other places as well as in 
Boston, and for many years after tliis he was one of the best known and most 
successful lecturers in the United States. 

Soon after his return from Europe he went to live in Concord, Massachusetts, 
and as the Sage of Concord, liis name will always be associated with tliat little 



Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



427 



village. There he lived most of his beautiful, g-entle, helpful life, and there he 
wrote the great books by which the world knows him. Concord was a wonderful 
little place during- a large part of this century. At one time, it was the home of 




Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



four or five of the greatest literary men in this country ; they were all friends, 
some of them very intimate friends, and t\\ey enjoyed living simply and quietly, 
with each other for company, and the beautiful country round about for their 
soutside pleasures. It was a gifted, delightful company they made, and a noble 



428 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

one, too, for each in a different way was at work for the ^ood of his fellow- 
men. 

Emerson was one whose kindness and patience and hospitality never failed, 
althoug-h he was often imposed upon by selfish people. He was always full of 
helpful sympathy for young- people who were trying- to make their way in the 
world ; and many a man and woman who finally reached success has had the 
Sage of Concord to thank for helping- them over the hard places. 

Nearly fifteen ;>'ears after his first visit to Eng-land he went there ag-ain. This 
time almost as famous as any man of his age. During- these fifteen years he had 
written a number of books, of both prose and poetry, which had made his name 
well known among- literary people wherever the English language was read. He 
was warmly welcomed by many distinguished people and received great honors, 
but still his dearest friend was Carlyle, who had thought as much of him when he 
was unknown as he did now. After he came back he wrote a book about England 
and Englishmen, called "English Traits," which is generally thought to be one 
of the most notable works ever written by a traveler about what he had observed 
in a foreign country. 

Among the greatest of his other books are volumes of essaj^s and poems on 
various subjects, " Representative Men," " Society and Solitude," and the poems 
''May Day and Other Pieces," and "Parnassus." All that he wrote had the 
tendency to make people conscientious and honorable, for he always showed that 
to do right was the most important thing in the world. Besides, there is a hope- 
fulness and cheerfulness in his writings that encourage people to try to be good. 
This serene, happy truthfulness was a part of himself, and a beautiful grace that 
he kept through his whole life, from childhood to old age. 

Thirty years ago, when the great author was still living, a celebrated English 
critic wrote: "Emerson's is the most original mind America has yet produced. 
He has united in his single self much of the abstruse conception of the German, 
the ethereal subtlety of the Greek, and the practical acuteness of the American 
understanding. His insight is quiet and keen, but he sees because he has first loved.. 
It is his keen love for ' the beautiful, the true, and the pure ' in all men and all 
things, that is like a magic key that unlocks— as Emerson only has unlocked— the 
philosophy of all life. It is the things close about him of which he writes, and which 
he makes to tell us a wonderfully clear and simple story, before unthought of. 
There is a fine under-song in his eloquence, which reminds you of the 'quiet 
tune ' sung by a log in the fire, to one sitting by it half-asleep at the eventide. 
Yet there is the teaching of a true oracle in the deep, mysterious sounds. The 
key to Emerson's entire nature and philosophy is love. A child-like tenderness 
and simplicit}' of affection breathe in his writings. As a writer, his mannerism 



Henry David Thoreau. 429 

lies in the exceeding unexpectedness of his transitions ; in his strang-e, swift, and 
sudden yokings of the most distant and unrelated ideas ; in brevity and abrupt- 
ness of sentence ; in the shreds of ' mysticism which are left deliberately on the web 
of his thought ; and in the introduction, by almost ludicrous contrast, of the veri- 
est vulgarisms of American civic phraseology and kitchen talk amid the flights of 
idealism. His style falls often, as if dying away to the sound of music, into sweet 
undulations ; sometimes into a certain rounded and rolling grandeur of ending." 

For the last few years of his life Mr. Emerson wrote nothing, but he was still 
interested in what other people wrote and said, and though afflicted with failing- 
health and a loss of memory, he was patient and gentle, as he had always been. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston, Massachusetts, May 25, 1803. He 
died in Concord, Massachusetts, April 27, 1882. 

Another famous essayist and poet of Concoi'd was Henry David Thoreavi. 

He was a friend of Emerson, though fifteen j'^ears younger than the great sage, 
and of Hawthorne, who was twelve years his senior, and of many other men and 
women who were then gaining the highest rank in American litei'ature. Thoreau 
was a naturalist ; and as a writer he has had a great effect on literature without 
ever having many readers. The people who care and have cared for him most 
are generally other writers. He is best knowni as a lover of nature, and an ob- 
server of all out-of-door happenings. From the time that he was a little boy he 
loved trees and flowers, delighted in watching the sky and in enjo^'ing the woods 
and fields. Neither Audubon nor Wilson — great as they were — had such close 
union with the world of nature as Thoreau. He lived his own life in that of "all 
out-doors ;" the trees, the flowers, and the birds were his intimate friends, and he 
carried no gun in his wanderings. 

His father and mother and his brothers and sisters were all bright, superior 
people, although none of them except Henry ever became famous ; but the3^ all 
had something of the same odd ways that made him a very marked man in Con- 
cord. He had ideas and ways of his own, and an independence and carelessness 
of other people's opinions and customs that some of his acquaintances called 
eccentricities and others condemned as serious faults. 

His father made lead-pencils for a living, and Henry, along with the rest of the 
children, learned the same business. He was so skillful at it that some of the great 
men of Concord soon noticed his work and himself, and thought him a bright, prom- 
ising boy. Emerson, then a young man, was one of the first to find him out, and 
to interest himself in getting the lad into Harvard College. Thoreau's family 
were poor, but they loved education so well that they made great efforts to help 
pay his expenses. He himself worked through his vacations and did aU he could 



43^0 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

toward paying- his own way ; and bis father and a sister and an aunt saved out of 
their scant earning'S to help him. The rest of liis needs were met through the 
influence of Emerson m getting tlie college to assist him from a fund intended for 
the benefit of worthy students. Emerson only knew Thoreau then as a bright, 
studious son of a poor neighbor, but his kindly, sympathetic heart was touched by 
the young man's efforts to get an education, and he wished to do him all the favors 
he could. Afterward they became firm, life-long friends. 

At college the young pencil-maker was a good student, and by the time he 
graduated — which was when he was twenty years old — he was a very promising 
scholar in the classics and in the Oriental languages. For a short time after his 
course was finished, he taught ; but he soon showed a strong bent for a different 
sort of work, and as it was about impossible to do anything that did not come to 
him naturally, he soon gave up teaching for study and writing, although Mr, 
Emerson, Dr. Ripley, and several other noted people had taken the trouble to 
recommend him as a teacher. He had been writing ever since he was seventeen 
years old. When he was about nineteen he had lectured for the Concord Ly- 
ceum, and in Concord the people were used to good lectures. He had shown his 
interest in Indian history and relics b3^ beginning to make a cabinet of them be- 
fore he left college ; he had also written for a remarkable little paper called the 
Dial before he was out of his teens, and he had been hunting and fishing, lov- 
ing nature and living in the woods ever since he was a child. All these things he 
liked better than school-teaching, and at last he had to give it up for them. Part 
of his time, though, was spent at the family trade. The Thoreaus still kept on 
making lead-pencils, and now they supplied publishers with powdered plum- 
bago — which was the waste from the lead of the pencils — to be used in electro- 
typing. This business and farming, together with the money received for his 
lecturing and writing, gave Henry his support, without taking all his time from 
study and outdoor wanderings. 

The money for the lecturing and writing was almost nothing at first, but it 
increased as he became better known. Horace Greeley was one of his most, 
helpful friends ; he did all he could for him, buying his writings and getting 
other people to buy them. 

The chief event in his life was a very quiet one ; it was his going to live by 
himself for two years in a hut in a beautiful wood near Concord by a little body 
of water called Walden Pond. He did this because he thought he could write 
better there than anywh(>re else, and because he loved to watch the living crea- 
tures, the wood-flowei's and all growing things, and wanted to see them constant- 
ly for a while. He wrote a book about his two j^ears in the woods. It is called 
"Walden," and is better known than any other of his works. It is prose; he 



Margaret Fuller. 431' 

also wrote some poetry, not easy to understand, but full of thoug-ht. In every- 
thing- that he wrote all the facts about nature — when the flowers bloomj how the 
different birds act when the3'^ come in the spring- and g-o in the fall — all such 
thing-s as these are told with more care to be truthful and exact than almost any 
other American has ever shown ; he has g-iven more attention to little things of 
this kind than perhaps any other writer of any country. He went nearer 
to the real heart of nature than any other American is ever known to have 
g-one. He cared little for the society of people — was always a bachelor — and was 
never happier than when away from all human settlements, among- the tenants of 
the woods. Birds and four-footed animals knew him for their friend, forg'ot to be 
afraid of him ; and he, in return, " tolerated liberties from robin and woodchuck 
that would never been allowed a Webster or a Calhoun." 

In hie manner, his dress, and his daily life he was very odd ; he was bred to no 
profession, jet he was a craftsman, a farmer, sometimes a land surveyor, a poet, 
a humorist, a scholar, a naturalist, a philosopher, and a philanthropist. He 
lived in the simplest way according to his own ideas of life. It is said that he 
never paid a tax to the State, never voted, and never went to church. Yet he 
was— says Emerson— " a person of rare, tender, and absolute relig-ion. incapable 
of being profane. He g-rcAv to be reverenced and admired by his townsmen, who 
had at first known him only as an oddity, and many young- men found him the 
man of men who could tell them all they should do." He was always ready 
to do what he thought was right at any cost. He was not always very wise, 
many of his friends thoug-ht, in liis ideas of rig-ht and wrong, but they respected 
his principle ; and if any of them told him of what they thoug-ht were his faults, 
he listened kindly, considered their words, and never let the plainest criticism 
alter his friendship for the person who told him of his defects. 

Henry D. Thoreau was born July 12, 1817, at Concord, Massachusetts, where 
he died May 6, 1863. 

The most brilliant woman among these g-reat New England writers was 
Margaret Fuller, afterward the Marchioness Ossoli. ' She was born and 
bred m Cambridge, the town of scholarship and learning. She came of an old 
New England family, in which there had been many men of unusual intellect : her 
father was an able, scholariy man, who thought much of learning: and. at one 
time or another, she had the acquaintance and often the intimate friendship of 
about all the great literary people of her Aviry. 

Through a hard schooling of severe study under her father— who, proud of his 
daughter's bright, quick mind and wonderful promise, began to teach her Latin 
when she was six years old— and an equally hard schooling of house-work and 



432 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

care in a large family, whose needs fell heavily upon her weak and gentle mother- 
Margaret Fuller grew into maidenhood, proficient in all common studies, under- 
.standing the modern languages, and with more knowledge of Greek and Latin- 
it used to be said in Camhridge— than half the professors. She wrote Latin verses 
before she reached her teens ; philosophy, history, and aesthetics— studies that 
most children scarcely know the names of at ten years— were her favorite subjects. 
Tasso, the great Itahan poet, and Aristotle, the famous Greek philosopher, she 
read in their own languages when she was ten years old, and afterward she read 
German as easily as English, and was especially familiar with the poetry and 
novels of Tieck, and the philosophical essays of Schelling and Novalis. Spending 
most of her time, when not at house-work, with her blunt, scholarly father and 
other men, and too few leisurely hours withher graceful, sweet-mannered mother, 
.she grew up without many of the gentle ways that are one of the greatest 
charms in woman, and she also suffered in health and in other ways from having 
been kept too closely to study ; but in spite of these disadvantages, as Margaret 
Fuller- grew toward womanhood she was a most remai'kable and atti-active girl. 
Young as she was, she was already using liei- wonderful stimulating power on 
those around her. Her industry at study, her knowledge, and her quick, keen, 
powerful way of thinking, with the strong, decided manner in which she did ever^^- 
thing, made man^^ of her schoolmates admire her greatly, and also made them 
want to be like her and to do everything just as she did. As she grew older, she 
made friends among some of the intellectual men in Cambridge. They found 
great pleasure in talking with her ; they helped to guide her in choosing books to 
read and to study, and directed her mind toward the great German poet, Goethe. 
He became her favorite author, and when she came to be a writer in later years, 
she published an essay upon him, of which Emerson spoke very highly. " No- 
where," he says, "did Goethe find a braver, more intelligent, or more sympa- 
thetic reader than in Margaret Fuller." 

After a while the Fuller family moved from Cambridge to Groton, and when 
Margaret was twenty- five years old her father died. This made it necessary for 
her to work in some way to s\ipport her little brothers and sisters, for she was 
the oldest child. It was about this time that she became acquainted with Emer- 
son. This was probably the most important event in her life. She had often 
heard him preach in Boston, and had long wished to know him, but she little 
thought that he would see in her such a superior woman that he would think the 
world ought to know her. Yet so it was. A few months after their first meeting 
he invited her to make a visit at his home in Concord, and from that time to the 
close of her life she was the intimate friend of himself and his wife. When he 
found that she wanted to earn money for the family, and that she hoped to do so 



Margaret Fuller. 433 

"by teaching-, he introduced her to many people who helped her at once to get a po- 
sition in Boston. In this way she became acquainted with many more great peo- 
ple, and beside succeeding- wonderfully in her teaching- and in lecturing- to classes 
•of ladies, she soon stepped into the still broader field of writing-. 

She had a genius for teachuig, a great love for people, and a boundless desire 
for improvement, both in herself and others. She had a remarkable power for 
rousing ambition in young people, and many New England boys and girls owe to 
the memory of Margaret Fuller a debt of gratitude for their success in life. 
Meanwhile she kept on eagerly with her own studies, whenever she could get a 
few moments or a few hours to herself. 

Her first literary work was the translation from German to English of Ecker- 
man's " Conversations with Goethe." It was undertaken when she was about 
twenty-eight years old, and in the next year she became the editor of the Dial. 
This was a famous little paper, for which many of the greatest thinkers and wri- 
ters of the day wrote, and which was published to spread the ideas of trancendent- 
alism — a school of philosophy to which some of the best and greatest intellectual 
people of the country then belonged. After she had been in this position for about 
iive years, Miss Fuller accepted an invitation from Horace Greeley to go to New 
York and become a regular writer for the New York Tribune, and to take charge 
of its literary department. Beside the manj^ valuable articles that she wrote for 
these papers, she did them still greater service by her influence upon other writers. 
She stimulated everybody connected with them to write their best and to try to 
make their articles or reports better than they had ever been before. Before ever^-- 
thing else it was her mission in life to help people to be constantly growing nobler, 
to have higher aims and do better work with every etfort. Most of her best es- 
says came out either in the Dial or the Tribune ; a few of them, like the Goethe 
•critique, the " Summer on the Lakes," the '' Paf)ers on Literature and Art," and 
" Woman in the Nineteenth Century," have been saved from the quick death of 
most newspaper articles, and live in our literature as among the best things of 
their kind. 

But Margaret Fuller's character was so much more strongly marked as a 
woman than in any profession that it is her personal life more than her writings that 
is now remembered and talked about, and— more than all — felt. Her great love 
and helpful influence toward her friends, her active mind, her strong nature, 
these are the things that made her great ; these are the things that left the deep- 
est impression upon her vast circle of acquaintances. 

She went to Europe when she was thirt3'-six years old, and there added new 
names to her long list of friends. Thomas Carlyle was one of the great people 
with whom she was most intimate during her visit to England. In France she 



434 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

met llie great novelist, " George Sand," and in Italy she became acquainted with 
the Marquis Ossoli, to whom she was soon married. There was war in Italy at 
this time, and she not only took a very active interest in the great political ques- 
tions of the hour, but when, two years after her marriage, Rome was under 
siege, she took charge of one of the liospitals, and nursed the sick and wounded 
wath Christian tenderness and devotion. 

After she had been away from America four years she and her husband and 
their one little child set sail for New York ; but the vessel never reached her port. 
It was struck by a hurricane ofif Fire Island beach, and there, in sight of the land 
that held so manj^ people dear* to her, and where she was so greatl}' beloved, she 
was drowned with her husband and chikU 

Margaret Fuller Ossoli was born in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, May 23, 
1810. She died near the coast of Long Island, Jidy IG, 1850. 

The greatest American writer on language, Noah Webster, came into the 
world with the fathers of our most famous group of authors. He lived his 
useful life and compiled his great dictionary when they were little children — or be- 
fore they were born — and passed away when Emerson and Hawthorne were just 
growing into manhood, and when Margaret Fuller w^as a little girl scarcely old 
enough to read. 

He, too, was a New Englander — a farmer's boy with a strong bent for studj^ 
He pi-epared for college, and, when he was sixteen, set out from his home at Hart- 
ford to become a student at Yale. The Revolutionary War began the next year, 
and, young- as he was, Webster joined the militia compan,y to which his father 
belonged, and did his share in fighting the English. Yet he kept on with his 
studies, and graduated wiien he was twenty years old. On his return home his 
father gave him an eight dollar bill of Continental currency — worth about four dol- 
lars in real money — saying, " That is all I can do for for you, Noah : you have an 
education now, and you will have to support yourself." He had made up his mind 
to become a lawyer, but he first began teaching in Hartford. By this means he 
could pay his way, but could not afford to hire a teacher in law, so he obtained 
some books, and soon was hard at work studying by himself in leisure hours. 
After about two years spent in this way he passed his examination and was ad- 
mitted to the Connecticut bar the year in which the British surrender was made 
at Yorktown. 

The country was still poor, and had very little money to put into law business; 
so Mr. W^ebster soon went back to his teaching, this time in New York State. Be- 
fore he had been there long he began a work that influenced all his future life. 
He knew that the school-books then used were very poor, and thought that they 



Noah Webster. 435 

mig-lit be much improved, so he resolved to make a new grammar and also a spell- 
ing-book . Thev were so successful that he soon began thinking about the need 
of a dictionary, though it was not until some time later that lie undertook to 
make one. This spelling-book became popular all over the country-, and millions 
of copies are still used every j'ear. 

In addition to teaching and the making of school-books and lecturing upon the 
English language, Mr. Webster had many other interests, especially in the poli- 




NoAH Webster. 

tics of the country. At that time, when the United States had no President 
and was governed by Congress under the old Constitution, he edited a paper 
called Governor Winthrop's Journal, and strongly advocated a new Constitution 
in a series of able papers entitled "Sketches of American Policy." Ten years 
after, when the new Constitution had been adopted, and Washington's second term 
was almost at its close, he came forward again with strong, tnnely aid. This was 
when the people were dissatisfied with the treaty made between America and 
England by John Jay. Manj^ leading men in the country were so bitt;erly opposed 



436 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

to it that they even attacked the Government. But the best statesmen knew it 
was a wise arrangement, and Mr. Webster defended it in a number of articles that 
were so able and so easily understood that they had a great effect in changing- the 
popular feeling- to one in favor of what had been done. Some statesmen have said 
that these articles did more than anything- else at that time for the peace and pros- 
perity of the country. 

Shortly before this Mr. Webster had married the daug-hter of William Green- 
leaf, of Boston, and after living- for a feAv years in New York City, he moved with 
his famih' to New Haven, where most of the rest of his life was spent. He was a 
man who was a valuable citizen to any city. Philadelphia had been enriched by 
his presence while he taught an academy there in 1788, at the same time writing 
letters upon the Federal Constitution'; after that he lived for a time in New 
York City where he tried to start a high-class journal called the American 
Magazine, but the countr^^ was not yet settled enough to support this sort of 
literature. Then when it failed he founded and became the editor of a Federal 
daily paper called the Minerva, and its semi- weekly edition, the Herald, which 
was the first of its kind in America. The names of these were soon changed to 
those of the Commercial Advertiser for the daily, and the New York Spectator 
for the semi- weekly ; and so they have remained ever since. Thej^ were the lead- 
ing- papers of the Federal party as lung as it lasted ; then they were in favor of 
the National Republican, the Whig, and finallj^ of the present Republican parties 
as the changes came one after another. 

After removing- to New Haven, Mr. Webster devoted himself to literary pur- 
suits, and before long he began the great work of his life — that of preparing a new 
American dictionary of the English language. This required hard and constant 
labor for years. No large new dictionary of the English language had been pub- 
lished in seventy years, and in the meantime a great many new words had come 
into use, man,y old ones had grown to have new meanings, and some had dropped 
out altogether. Mr. Webster spent years making- lists of these new words, and 
gathering the new definitions to the old ones. After he had undertaken the dic- 
tionary, he found that he needed to know more about the formation of words — ety- 
mology, the science is called — and so he devoted ten years to its study. He made 
a synopsis or list of words in twenty languages, and then began his undertaking 
afresh. Before it was finished he went to Europe to consult with learned men, and 
to visit the large European libraries in search of knowledge to be used in his great 
work. Soon after his return — and at the close of seven years of devoted labor — the 
famous book was published. Not long after its appearance here a still larger 
edition was published in England, where, though called the "American Dictionarj'^ 
of the English Language," it has ever sinct^ ])e(Mi considered a standard authority. 



Noah Webster. 437 

Even during- these years of hard and earnest literary work, he did not give his 
whole time and attention to his own affairs, but was interested in the welfare of 
his neig-hbors and did a g-reat deal by helping to organize literary societies and by 
freely lending the books from his larg-e library to help others to improve them- 
selves. He also kept up his interest in national aflfairs, and published several 
pamphlets and articles on matters of public impoi'tance. One of his greatest ser- 
vices to his countrymen at this time was in securing- a national copyrig-ht law — that 
is, a law which g-ives to the writer of a book the rig-ht to publish it or have it pub- 
lished as he pleases, and forbids anybody to print copies of it without his permis- 
sion and without paying him for the privilege. 

One of the things tliat helped Mr. Webster to do such a great amount of useful 
work during- his lifetime was his love of order. He alwa^^s had his affairs ar- 
ranged with system, and kept his papers sorted and put away so carefully tliat he 
ne\er had to waste time looking- for what he wanted. His friends loved him for 
his pleasant, dignified manners and his true Christian kindness of heart as much as 
for his great intellect ; and his large family of children were benefited even more 
by the g'ood training he gave them than by his great fame and learning. 

Noah Webster was born in Hartford, Connecticut, October 16, 1758. He died 
in New Haven, Connecticut, May 38, 1843. 



EDITORS AND JOURNALISTS. 



One of the first names in the records of joiirnahsni in America is that of 
Nathan Hale, who was for ahnost fifty years the editor of New England's 
first and still its g-reatest daily newspaper, the Boston Daily Advertiser. He 
was a man of thirty, when in the third year of our War of 1812 he bought and 
became editor of this journal — then a little sheet, scarcel}' more than a year old ; 
and it was only at the call of death, when the country was in the third year 
of the Civil War, that he g-ave up his post. The i^apei- had growai meanwhile to 
be the most important in New England, and one of the foremost in the country. 
Excepting- the last ten, these years were to Mr. Hale filled with very hard work 
and constant activity in all the labors that a growing- and powerful daily news- 
paper and an earnest life of broad public interests demanded. 

Mr. Hale was the nephew and namesake of heroic Nathan Hale, the " patriot 
spy of the Revolution ; " his father was an honored Cong-regationalist preacher 
of Westhampton, Massachusetts, and a man of so much learning- that he fitted 
Nathan to enter Williams Colleg-e when the lad was only sixteen years old. 
Graduating- in 1804 young Hale chose to become a lawyer, and went to Troy, 
New York, to study ; but after a fcAv months he was asked to teach mathematics 
in Phillips Academy at Exeter, Ncav Hampshire, and the next five j'^ears of his 
life were spent in that way. Finally, when he was about twenty-five years old, 
he removed to Boston, finished his law studios, became a member of the Suffolk 
bar, and beg-an a promising practice. Young lawyers are rarely crowded with 
clients, and many of the spare hours that Mr. Hale had at this time he spent in 
writing. In a short time he became associate editor with Mr. Henry D. Sedg- 
wick, of the Boston Weekly Messenger, one of the leading New England papers 
of the day. There were then no important daily papers in any part of the coun- 
try, and what few" weekl^^ journals there were had little merit. Several active, 
able men of Boston felt that this want of good newspapers was a great misfort- 
une to the country. So, securing the services of Mr. Hale — who had a real 



Nathan Hale. 



439 



genius for journalism — they tried to make the Messenger such a paper as they 
thought the country needed ; and their ettorts were successful. It was then that 
some of the first distinct features of American journahsm had their birth. The 
Messenger— \h?i\> is, Mr. Hale— began the practice of discussing public questions 
in occasional " leaders," or editorials, and it was also the first American journal 




Nathan* Hale. 

to talk about and intelligently explain European politics and history; it soon 
gamed a reputation throughout the country for the clear way in which it de- 
scribed and talked about the politics of the end of Napoleon's reign. 

Not long after Mr. Hale had become well established as the leading spirit 
of this paper, it became plain that its usefulness might be much extended ; so, 
in the year 1814, with the help of the good, enterprising old Judge Lowell— 
the godfather of the city of Lowell— the editor of the Messenger bought the 
Advertiser — the new little daily paper, which was as yet more of a business 



440 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

journal than a political one. Into this enterprise Mr. Hale put forth his best 
g-ifts and the results of his experience on the Messenger. From the first day 
it became a favorite with the Boston merchants, the people of best education, 
and with the leaders in thoug-ht and the Federal party. Its signs of success 
were so sure that Mr. Hale soon launched out boldly into enterprises for raisings 
its standard and strengthening its hold on the public. Gradually it absorbed the 
best features, the circulation, the advertising, and the good-will of every political 
and commercial journal in Boston, and of many outside of the city — for this was 
in the "era of g'ood feehng-," when James Monroe was President, and when no 
real division of party existed in the nation. 

As long as the Federal party lasted, the Advertiser was a Federalist. Then, 
moving along with the changes in the times, but without much altering its policy, 
it stanchly supported the Whigs, and after that became one of the greatest 
organs of the present Republican party — a position that it still holds. In 1828, 
when the North took up the Protective Tariff, Mr. Hale wrote a pamphlet on 
that policy which became the basis of the protective tariffs of the United States 
from that da}^ to this. 

Always quick to adopt new improvements in the methods and machinery of 
his business, Mr. Hale was one of the first men in this country to set uj) a steam 
printing-press and to adopt the process of stereotyping-. In many such steps he 
led the way, in which other publishers follow^ed ; but g-reater ever than his busi- 
ness enterprise was his power as an editor. He was a man of excellent education ; 
he understood foreig-n languages — it is said that he once published the translation 
of an entire French journal that was filled with important news — he had clear, 
sound views on public matters and a wide interest in the growth and improve- 
ment of the people and the country, an extensive and accurate knowledge about 
practical matters of the time, a cautious and sober judgment, and great purity 
and integrity of personal character. All this w^as stamped upon his paper ; the 
editorial columns expressed his own personal opinions and were written by his 
own hand— it was not till near the close of his long career that he Avould allow 
any one else to write these articles, though most of the papers that had copied the 
editorial feature from the Advertiser employed various writers for that depart- 
ment. Mr. Hale never lost sight of his responsibility as a leader of public opin- 
ion. He w^ould not express his views upon any public subject rmtil he felt that he 
had mastered all the facts necessary to form a wise and correct opinion. He 
would rather be no leader at all than not to lead in the right direction. He w^as 
exceedingly modest and reserved, but he had no weakness in his character. Some 
one who knew him once said that he carried as bold and brave a heart, as firm and 
unwavering principles as ever filled a human breast ; no man could intimidate 



Nathan Hale. 441 

him, and nothing could tempt him to do wrong- or to use his columns for unwor- 
thy purposes. 

Another marked feature about this paper was its care about stating- the truth, 
and not printing- rumors until it knew them to be correct. Those were the days 
when accurate news did not travel as fast as it does now, and many papers 
spai-kled with startling- statements one day that had to be cori-ected the next. 
Mr. Hale's idea was that it is worse than Improper or impolite to tell a lie. He 
looked upon it as wrong. Many of his brilliant rivals who enjoyed making a 
great fuss over a rumor called the Advertiser " slow," and finally it came to be 
well known by the" satirical title of " the respectable daily." Most of these petty 
taunts were not worth regarding, but in this last title the accurate editor took a 
real pride. He wished no higher praise than to conduct a journal that deserved 
and enjoyed the respect of the most intelligent people in the country ; he was 
happy to be " respectable," to have his readers know that they could reh' on his 
statements. For this he could afford to give up the credit of '• smartness," 
gained by recklessly stating- doubtful facts, boldly uttering- crude opinions, and 
also by the wanton attacks on private character in which some journals of the 
time showed off the most brilliancy. 

In those days the Advertiser was the only paper of literary merit in Boston. 
Edward Everett and his gifted brother, Alexander, Daniel Webster, Prescott, 
Ticknor, and scores of others from among the ablest men and women in the coun- 
try were constant writers for it. Mr. Hale himself had good taste in these matters, 
and his wife — a sister of the Everetts — who was an accomplished scholar, was a 
very valuable helper in this department. The early poems and articles of some 
of our first writers were published in these columns, and its reviews were often 
among the first to see and point out the genius of Bryant and other young authors 
of that day. 

Thus the honored editor of the Boston Daily Advertiser used his enterprising- 
spirit, not to enlarge the glory of his paper, but to push forward all kinds of pub- 
he good. His chief aim was to make it a power for the benefit of the country and 
its readers. 

In a thousand ways— it has been said — he served his city, his State, his coun- 
try, and his feUow-man. He was a stanch supporter to every worthy cause. He 
was a man of very profound and exact information; he was interested in let- 
ters and art; in the Massachusetts Historical Society; in religious ma ttei\s— an 
earnest Christian— in civil engineering, and all kinds of internal improvements. 
He is cahed the father of New England railroads. From the first that was known 
about this mode of traveling, he appreciated its advantages more than any 
other man in New England. He advocated it and explained its details m his 



44'2 Oiie Hundred Famous Americans. 

paper. He did more than any other person to have the Boston and Worcester 
Raih-oad organized and built, lirst by convincing- his readers of the advantages to 
be had from railroads ; then by persuading- capitalists to invest their money in the 
enterprise, and at last by securing- for it a charter in the Leg-islature, to which he 
was often a member. When the coi-poi'ation was oi-g-anized he was made its first 
president, and he held the office for nineteen years. It was also chiefly due to 
him that the Cochituate water was broug-ht into Boston for the city water supply. 
He was a member of both the constitutional conventions of Massachusetts — the 
one of 1S'30 and of 1853 ; five times he was elected to the Legislature, and a brilliant 
political career was opened to him more than once ; but he chose instead to be a 
faithful editor of a "respectable daily," not for himself — for he made no great 
fortune — but for the benefit of his country and his countrymen. 

In this his life was a g-rand success. A g-reat New York daily once said that 
the tone and character which he g-ave to the Advertiser form an epoch in the 
history of American journalism. For almost fifty years he was held in the 
highest respect as a journalist and a citizen, and as a man of wisdom, industry, 
public spirit, and almost unequaled influence throughout New England. 

Most of the men of his own ag-e, and many of the yonng-er ones who knew him, 
have now passed away, but a few still live who cherish the memory of his thought- 
ful face and pensive eye, and can still tell us of the flush and the light that used 
to overspread his countenance when he saw the fulfillment of the great objects for 
which he labored. He left his paper in the hands of his son, the Honorable 
Charles Hale, who with a genius equal to that of his father, spent his life in its 
service. Though he, too, has now passed away, the Boston Daily Advertiser, 
in spite of all its powerful ri\'als, still holds its place as the leading — and the " re- 
spectable *" daily of New England. 

Nathan Hale was born at Westhampton, Massachusetts, August IG, 1784. He 
died at Brookline, a suburb' of Boston, February 8, 1863. 

While New England, and especiall}' Boston, was the home of the first news- 
papers of this country, New York City has long been the real seat of American 
journalism. It is here that our greatest dailies were born, and for almost a cen- 
tury- it has been regarded as the fountain-head of all newspaper enterprise. 

No man has done more to give New York its great newspaper reputation than 
Jaines Gordon Bennett, the founder of the New York Herald. Not many 
people who i-ead that famous sheet now can remember the day when it first came 
•out, or even know the stor}' of its birth. This happened in a Nassau Street cellar 
in the summer of 1835, near the close of General Jackson's second term as President, 
and wlien people were beginning to talk about having Martin Van Buren to take 



James Gordon Bennett. 



443 



his place. The Herald started as a httle one-cent paper, and was about as larg-e as 
a sheet of foolscap. It was bright and saucy, having- its say about almost every- 
thing-, and aiming- to tell New York what was g-oing- on in the world, especially in 
the United States. The establishment w^as on as small a scale as the paper, if not 
.smaller. The cellar office was furnished with two empty flour barrels that sup- 
ported a g-ood-sized pine board, which served as a table and held a pile of the day's 
papers on the end that was nearest the steps. The center was the desk of the pro- 




James Gordon Bennett. 

prietor, editor, reporter, bookkeeper, clerk, office-boy, and in fact the entire staff 
of the Herald establishment in the person of a "■ tall, vig-orous looking- man, then 
about forty years of ag-e." He sat in the only chair in the office, which was a 
plain wooden one, and stood behind the board. Scissors, pens, inkstand, papers, and 
pencil occupied the other end of the board, at the right hand of the busy man who 
looked up from his work when people came in, and, often without speaking-, 
allowed them to help themselves to the Heralds and add their cent to the pile on 
the table, wrote out advertisements for them, or received their orders, whatever 
they mig-ht be, and returned to his writing- as soon as possible. 

It was a tiny business, the unpromising- beginning- of a g-i-eat enterprise. Its 
proprietor was a Scotchman, who, when he was a lad, had read the Autobiography 



444 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

of Benjamin Franklin, and had joined a young- friend in comjng- to America,, 
mostly from a desire to see the place where his hero was born. He had not found 
everything ready to receive him here. The short time he spent in Halifax, after 
landing-, was a very hard one, for he only broug-ht money enoug-h to pa^' about two 
weeks' board, and suffered privations and hardships to avoid using- it until he saw 
the chance of g-etting- more. Gradually he worked his wa}^ to the city where 
Franklin was born, but Boston g-ave him as cold a welcome as Halifax, and he 
spent his last penny there before he found any work. He was too proud to beg-, 
and almost two days went by without his having- a bit of food. He was able to 
break this wretched fast by a happy accident. One morning- as he was walking- 
along- Boston Common, wondering why, in a whole city full of business, he, willing- 
and able, could find nothing- to do, he saw a shilling- lying- in his path. Scarcely 
believing- his eyes, he picked it up. It was a true shilling- ; it boug-ht him food and 
g-ave him courage for another trial in his weary search, which soon ended in his 
finding- employment in the bookselling- and publishing- business. He became a clerk 
and proof-reader for Wells & Lilly ; but the firm did not last long-, and with his 
earnings in his pocket, and some little record in the publishing- business, he came 
to New York. This was in 1822, and James Gordon Bennett was then a man of 
almost thirty years of ag-e. He taug-ht school, lectured on political economy, gave 
lessons in Spanish, and finally took a place in a printing--ofRce, where, for all kinds 
of di-udg-e-work, he managed to earn from five to eig-ht dollars a week, sometimes 
g-etting a little outside work from publishers that added a trifle more to his 
income. 

By and by he went to Washing-ton to act as correspondent from the capital 
during- Congress for the New York Enquirer. The newspapers of those days had 
nothing to compare with the great corps of editors, correspondents, and reporters 
now belonging- to every sizable journal, and so it was a brand-new thing Avhen young 
Bennett sent up some spicy, gossipy letters about Washington people and society, 
which he modeled after Horace Walpole's bright society letters that he had come 
across in the Congressional Library. As he did not sign his name this happy 
thought gave him no fame, and therefore little money ; but the popularity of his 
letters gave him an idea of what people like to read in a newspaper, and that was 
worth a good deal. 

Although he worked hard and faithfully at different kinds of journalism, 
especially of a political sort, for some time, he seemed to make scarcely a moder- 
ate success of life. But all the while he was gaining a wide experience, and 
although he was m the midst of many bad influences, he kept his own habits 
good and pure, making, as he said himself, social glasses of wine his aversion and 
public dinners his abomination. 



James Gordon Bennett. 445 

In 1835 he had two or three hundred dollars saved, and with this he set up his 
newspaper, his long--desired enterprise of a paper of his own. " The little Herald 
was lively, smart, audacious, and funny; it pleased a great many people and 
made a considerable stir ; but the price was too low, and the range of journalism 
was then very narrow." Every effort was made by the other daily journals to kill 
the Herald, and, industrious, able, and energetic as its owner was, he would prob- 
ably have failed if it had not been for a young- Engiishman named Brandeth, who 
wanted very much to find some cheap and ettective way to tell the public about 
his pills. It was a fortunate event for Mr. Bennett and his paper when this young- 
doctor paid a visit to the Nassau Street cellar and agreed with him to advertise 
Brandeth's pills regularly in the Herald. By this arrangement a certain amount 
of money was sure to come to the paper every week ; it gave the hard-working 
editor some encouragement to keep on — he had often been in doubt on Saturday 
night about money for the next week's issues — and, with his "indomitable charac- 
ter, his audacity, his persistence, his power of continuous labor, and the inex- 
haustible vivacity of his mind," he did keep on, through ups and downs, doubts 
and discouragements, which were at their worst during the first year. After that 
the price was doubled and prosperity kept steadily increasing till the Herald be- 
came of first importance not only in this countrj^, but in others, bringing to its 
founder the largest revenue which had ever resulted from journalism in the 
United States, and finally becoming the most valuable newspaper property per- 
haps in the world, certainly in this country. 

It was not one era, but several, that Mr. Bennett made in journalism. The 
very beginning was the first one, when, with five hundred dollars in cash added 
to an unknown capital in brains, and a vast amount of experience as a newspaper 
reporter, correspondent, assistant editor, editor, and owner, gained through many 
changes, this journalistic scientist gave his first little sheet to the country with its 
plain-spoken announcement. " Our only guide," this read, " shall be good, sound, 
practical common-sense, applicable to the business and bosoms of men engaged in 
every-day life. We shall support no party, be the organ of no faction or coterie, 
and care nothing for any election or any candidate from President down to a 
constable. We shall endeavor to record facts on every public and proper subject, 
stripped of verbiage and coloring, with comments when suitable, just, independ- 
•ent, fearless, and good-tempered. If the Herald wants the mere expansion which 
many journals possess, we shall try to make it up in industry, good taste, variety, 
point, piquancy, and cheapness. It is equally intended for the great masses of 
the community — the merchant, mechanic, working-people — the private family as 
well as the public hotel, the journeyman and his employer, the clerk and his prin- 
<cipal." The editor promised to "give a correct picture of the world— in Wall 



446 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Street — in the Exchange — in the Police-office — at the Theater — in the Opera — in 
short, wherever human nature and real life best display' their freaks and vaga- 
ries." 

A writer who knows the full history of this great enterprise says : ' ' There 
were constant improvements in the art of making newspapers in the Herald es- 
tablishment. Mr. Bennett devoted his whole time and thought to journalism. He 
was a walking newspaper. After he started the Herald the success of his jour- 
nal was the aim of his life. Early and late he attended to his business. No 
political office had any attraction for him ; to increase his circulation ; to improve 
and fill his atlvertising columns : to obtain the best correspondents ; to get the 
news to his office before any of his contemporaries had it, were his ambition. To 
accomplish these points he would spare no expense." 

It was in doing this that Mr. Bennett — who did about all the brain- work on the 
paper himself for a long time — introduced one important new feature after an- 
other into the methods of newspaper-making. He was the first to publish Wall 
Street reports and money articles, which now have an important place in every 
great journal ; it Avas the growth of his paper that called forth the need of better 
means of circulation than the old carrier system and it was his enterprise that, 
finally led to the forming of news companies. 

The wonderful little paper met with what at first seemed a great misfortune 
when it wiis about three months old — the whole establishment was burnt up. But 
Mr. Bennett was unharmed, and he was the Herald. In a very short time it was 
going again, and instead of sharing the ownership as he had had to before, he 
now ran the l)usiness all alone with greater genius and enterprise than ever. He 
opened its second era with another in journalism— a " cash system" of payment. 
Profiting by the experience of other publishers who had lost thousands of dollars 
in bad debts, Mr. Bennett resolved that he would neither do a credit business for 
others nor ask others to do it for him. It was almost unheard of with newspapers 
then ; it is now the general policy. 

A year after the fire the Herald became a two-cent paper, for the public 
would rather pay double the original price than for one day to miss the bright^ 
original, newsy little sheet. A few months later a Weekly Herald was begun,, 
and with it journalism saw another new feature in the sunimai-ies of news, which 
Mr. Bennett afterwards introduced into his daily issues, and which to busy people 
has long been one of the most valuable features of the paper. In the next year 
w^onderful strides forward were made in methods of collecting news — steam and 
electricity not being in common use then — and this was followed by improvements 
in all departments of gathering and presenting news. The first newspaper '' war 
map" was published in the Herald on the 5th of January, 1838; news-boats. 



James Gordon Bennett. 447 

were also adopted for it in that year, and in the middle of March the first double 
sheet made its appearance to give more room for the commercial reports and 
other articles upon the material interests of the country that had been introduced, 
and also for the important speeches made at the government capital upon the 
United States Bank and other g-reat public matters. In this same year Mr. 
Bennett also undertook illustrating- scenes connected with the important events of 
the day, and this, with the maps of war, of burnt districts after g-reat fires, and of 
localities about which there was an^^ special interest, made a beg-inning for the 
pictorial press in which Harper brothers and Frank Leslie have since made them- 
selves g-reat and have become known as the fathers of illustrated journahsm in 
Amei-ica. It was also in 1838 that Mr. Bennett went to Europe — on the return 
trip of the little steamer Sirius — and made extensive arrang-ements for forming- a 
reg-ular European staff of writers and reporters to his paper on all matters of 
g-eneral interest. " Travelers' letters " and " observers' notes " had been known 
in American papers before ; but this was the first foreig-n news bureau ever estab- 
lished. 

The next years saw other new steps, the most important of which were the full 
and careful reports of sermons and religious news, and a great increase of all 
kinds of advertising — the Herald's advertisements are now a more important 
feature than almost any pther in the entire newspaper world. In 1844 a private 
overland express was opened to New Orleans for the purpose of bringing- news of 
the Texas and Mexican affairs to the Herald. It was the first express of the 
kind ever run, and beat the Great Southern mail from New Orleans to New York 
by from one to four days. Soon after this the telegraph was introduced, and 
Mr. Bennett was of course among the very first to make use of its services. The 
first " interview " ever published came out in the Herald. In 1859, at the time of 
John Brown's celebrated raid, one of the regular reporters went out to Peters- 
borough to see Mr. Gerrit Smith, the Abolitionist, and had a long- talk with him 
about the affair at Harper's Ferry. The next day, when the conversation was 
printed, it made a great sensation, and the fashion for ''interviewing*' became 
popular at once. When the first shots on Fort Sumter opened the Civil War, Mr. 
Bennett alread^^ had half a dozen correspondents in the South, and when the first 
Union Army was organized a Herald corps of both army and navy correspon- 
dents was also fitted out. There was a Herald wagon and a Herald tent with 
perfect equipment and careful attention from home with ever}^ corps of the army ; 
and no fight, no movement of any importance took place that was not reported to 
the Herald by an eye-witness, taking his chances of the dangers of battle and im- 
prisonment with the soldiers. It has been said that no history of the war can be 
complete with the incidents connected with these war correspondents omitted. 



448 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Other jo\irral« were aiso represented, and largely, but the Herald stood first. 
During- the four years of the conflict it spent half a million of dollars on this one 
enterprise, and was well repaid for it too. 

Mr. Bennett made many enemies in his paper, and as a man he had some qual- 
ities that people did not like ; but as an editor, a journalist, and a newspaper owner 
he was more admired than almost any man in his profession. It is said that 
America has never had a greater journalist, nor any citizen who has been more 
abused or more praised during- his public career. His success was unexampled, 
and was won by great foresight, energy, and industry. The New York Times 
once said : " He was never connected with jobs, either in State or National politics; 
he never swore allegiance to any party, and he built up the great newspaper which 
he controlled solely by his own genius, courage, and pei'tinacity. His mind is 
characterized b^^ originality of thought and wit in equal proportions ; and he has 
always appreciated the value of news. These elements — independence, originality, 
wit, courage, and news — have made the success of the Herald, and this success 
there is nobod^^ to dispute." 

James Gordon Bennett was born at New Mill, Keith, Banffshire, Scotland, 
September 1, 1795. He died in New York City, June 1, 1872. 

It was sometime during the year after the close of the Rebellion that Mr. Ben- 
nett, full of years and full of honors, took his son and namesake into his sanctum 
and taught him the mysteries of his wonderful establishment and its success; 
and James Gordon Bennett, Jr., was a pupil worthy of his teacher. When, 
at his father's death, he became the sole owner of the Herald, he was perfectly 
able to undertake its management. He was already acquainted with* the ins and 
outs of the vast business, and he soon proved that he was in every way fitted to 
take liis father's place. He has the same remarkable talent for journalism, with 
a boldness and foresight in enterprise that is most wondei-ful, and has actually in- 
fluenced the age throughout the whole world. " He is assisted by a corps of thirty 
or more editors, among whom are some of the brightest intellects and ablest 
writers of the country. A council of editors is held daily. Whether present or 
absent. ]\[r. Bemiett breathes into this council the tone and policy of tlie paper ac- 
cording to his own idea. When not present he reaches his associates by wires, 
whether in Euroi)e or America, and directs the course of his paper. He is a lib- 
eral patron of the telegraph, and before his own — the Bennett-Macka.y cable — was 
built he had sjient, for special services since the completion of the cables, over a 
quarter of a million in gold. Mr. Bennett is manager in detail as well as in gross. 
It costs nearly two million a year to rim the Herald, and its profits are at least 
«ight hundred thousand a year. Less than ten years ago he refused the offei- of 



Horace Greeley. 44{> 

twenty-two hundred thousand dollars for the whole property. All this business 
the chief editor holds in his own hands. He knows ever^^ employe, what is paid 
him, and what he is about. He knows what it costs to run the Herald, and 
where the money goes. He is economical where econonw is a virtue ; lavish wher& 
it will make the Herald g-reat." Large and man^^ as the departments are, each is 
perfectly arranged. There are leading bureaus for news and for business in all 
the great cities of Europe and America ; steam yachts at Sandy Hook and White- 
stone readj" for instant and regular use ; a cable of its own, and keen, intelligent 
business and editorial agents all over the world. 

One of the first and boldest of his enterprises was that he sent by cable the 
whole of the King of Prussia's important speech after the battle of Sadowa of 
the Prusso- Austrian war. This cost in tolls seven thousand dollars in gold, and 
was only one of the features in one day's issue of the journal ; but one day's 
issue of that journal sometimes yields half of that sum in clear profit. Nothing 
that will be of general importance to the public or add to the power of his paper 
is too great for him to undertake — and make successful. 

When old Mr. Bennett was thinking about starting the Herald, one of the 
men that he asked to join him in the enterprise was Horace Greeley, who was 
then editor of the New Yorker. He was about sixteen years younger than Ben- 
nett, and was well known as one of the best printers and cleverest journalists in 
New York. " How much money have you?" asked Greeley. "Five hundred 
dollars," was the answer. "It isn't enough," said the printer-editor. "No, I 
won't go in with you, because I don't think the enterprise will succeed." 

The energetic Bennett found other colleagues, and Horace Greeley kept on at 
his own work. But this was not for very long ; for he, too, was anxious to be- 
come the owner of a great daily, and six years after the little Herald appeared 
he had his wish. But the story of his life, both before and after beginning news- 
paper work, tells of a pretty hard struggle to reach the honored position in which 
he finally became well known to all the world. 

Before this century had much more than turned its first quarter he was an odd, 
hard-working, studious lad, barely in his teens, living with his father and mother 
and his brothers on a wild, newly-cleared farm in the frontier country of western 
Pennsylvania. The family had moved to this place from Vermont, and it had not 
been a very beneficial change for them. Before long Horace, who had learned 
the printer's trade in his native State, had to start out to look for work, because 
the family were so poor that it was likely that there would not be living for all 
•during the winter, unless some effort was made beyond the limits of the log-cabin 
.and the farm. Horace was a tall and awkward lad, with fair white skin, a noble, 



450 One Hundred Famous Amet^icans. 

open face, and tow-colored hair ; but he looked so mean and shabby m his home- 
spun clothes that the lirst people he met made fun of him instead of givnig* him 
work ; many of them thoug-ht from his peculiar looks and piping, whining" voice 
that he was not very bright. But if they listened to his talk for a feAv minutes, 
they changed their minds about that, for he had a quick and intellig'ent mind, and, 
though he had to work very hard as soon as he was old enough, he had managed 
to gather a g-ood deal of general education for himself. Every minute he could 
spai"e from work or sleep he had taken for reading-, and what he read he remem- 
bered. These were but scanty chances, for Horace Greele^^ was not the boy to 
shirk any task ; all the time he ever had for books was well earned and only taken 
after he had done, and done well, what it was his duty to do for the family needs. 
Yet he would learn. Even in the poorly-furnished country printing-office, where 
he learned his trade, he g"ot more education than some men receive from a grreat 
colleg-e. Once the leading- men in the neighborhood had offered to pay his ex- 
penses throug-h a college course, but his parents refused, probably because they 
could not spare his help for four years and because they were too proud to receive 
any charities. Then they had all moved to the wilds of Pennsylvania. Even 
there he managed to study and tO inform himself about politics, on which he held 
very decided opinions, and showed great eag-erness and ability when talking- about 
them. 

So, in spite of his poor clothes and awkwardness, he showed his w^orth, and be- 
fore long- he found work as a substitute on tlie Ei'ie Gazette. After seven months 
the regular man came back and his job was at an end ; but meanwhile he had won 
the respect and reg-ard of his employers and companions. He had also made 
money. In the whole time he had drawn only six dollars for his personal ex- 
penses ; and, when the rest of his wages were paid, he took out fifteen dollars for 
himself and sent the rest — about a hundred and twenty dollars — to his father. 
Then, chiefly b^^ canal and by foot, he worked his way to New York, and arrived 
in the great city — which had one-sixth as many people then as it has now — at 
about sunrise, one sultry summer day in 1831. His journey of six hundred miles 
had only cost him about five dollars, and without a friend or even an acquaintance 
in the city, he had made the bold venture of coming here to seek his fortune, with 
ten dollars in his pocket to fall ])ack on in case he failed. But retiring and bashful, 
shabby and without much knowledg-e of the world as lie was, he had not come to 
fail. First he foinid a cheap— very clieap — boarding-place, and for a whole week 
he tried in vain for work. Nobody believed that the white-skinned, wliite-lieaded,- 
awkward-looking- fellow who came into their offices and piped out, '• Do you want 
a hand ? " really had any working ability ; and he had no idea of persisting after 
his first request had been refused. So, day after day, he made his long- i-ounds in. 



Horace Greeley. 



451 



vain. His chance canrie another way : the landlord, whose g-ood-will Horace 
had g-ained, throug-h that week of discouragement, mentioned to an acquaintance 
that his boarder, a printer from the countr}-, had had a tiresome and unsuccessful 
search for work. The acciuaintance said that printers were wanted at No. 85 
Chatham Street ; and to that number Horace went the first thing Monda}' morn- 




HoRACE Greeley. 

ing. He was there so early that the doors were not yet unlocked, and so he fell 
into talk with one of the men who came after awhile and had to wait till the dooi's 
were opened. The printer said : " I saw that he was an honest, good young man, 
and being a Vermonter myself I determined to help him if I could." So, at his 
new friend's earnest recommendation, the foreman gave the lad a chance, not 
believing he could do anything. The Avork was wanted on the polyglot Testa- 
ment, and after Horace's cases were filled — we are told by one of his friends — he 
worked all day with silent intensity, and when he showed to the foreman at night 



452 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

a printer's proof of his work, it was found to be a better da^-'s work — larger in 
quantity and more correct — than any man had yet done on that most difficult 
job. The battle was won. He worked on the Testament for several months, 
making- long hours and earning only moderate wages, saving all his surplus 
money, and sending the greater part of it to his father, who was still in debt for 
his farm and was not sure of being able to keep it. 

This work lasted for over a 3^ear, and Avhen it was finished more followed. He 
joined Francis Story in starting the short-lived but remarkably- able Morning 
Post, the first daily penny paper ever published ; and in the next year — 1834 — 
as the head of the business firm of Greeley & Co., he founded the New Yorker, 
a weekl}' literary paper, the best periodical of its class in the United States. Six 
years later he started the Log-Cabin, a spirited little sheet, for the service of 
Thurlow Weed — who is known as the founder of political journalism — and the 
Albany politicians during the " Hard Cider Campaign" for William Henry Har- 
rison "and Tyler too." This paper — it has been said — was never equaled among 
its kind before or since. While both of these journals gave their editor great 
credit thc}^ were not successful in making money. But he learned the newspaper 
business in them. Reputation and experience are sometimes as good or even 
l)etter capital than money. At least so it was with Horace Greeley, and the last 
mnnber of the Log-Cabin announced a new daily paper to be called the Tribune. 
The Herald and the Sufi were already in the field , but they did not fill it, for the 
little one-cent Whig paper — which its founder aimed to make one that should 
inform and morally benefit the people — soon attracted notice, and although it was 
no easy matter to give away all of the five thousand of the first issue, in less 
than two months there was a demand for eleven thousand. The first number 
had four columns of advertisements ; the hundredth, thirteen columns. It was a 
sudden and a great success. From the first day it appeared — April 10, 1841 — it 
has had a moral character, and like the Herald it kept its own individual and 
original tone and hved through all the big efforts that were made to crush it. 
Mr. Greeley was the editor, and having no gifts for money matters himself he 
secured for his business manager Thomas McElrath, to whose ability and ex- 
perience—he had been a lawyer and a book publisher — a great deal of the success 
of the Tribune is due. 

The Tribune has not been so great a roadmaker in journalism as the Herald, 
but it also has followed a course of its own. The Herald was aiming to be a great 
mirror of the world's events; the Tribune aspired to be a molder of sentiment, 
a former of public opinion as well as a newspaper. Yet it has also been an en- 
terprising institution. It was in this office that the idea of association in news- 
papers in the United States was first proposed and carried into effect. The Trih- 



Horace Greeley. 453 

une Company was the first newspaper stock company on this side the Atlantic. 
Its property was divided into one hundred shares of a thousand dollars each. 
Some of these were owned by every important man in the establishment, and its 
officers were elected by the shareholders. This divided the responsibility and 
enlarged the interest of all connected with the paper, while it made no change in 
the management. Mr. Greeley owned the largest number of shares, and was 
elected editor-in-chief as long as he lived. There are very few great papers in 
the country now that are not owned upon this plan. 

Mr. Greeley was a superior journalist, a man of literary taste and ability, 
and he soon drew to his paper some of the cleverest reporters, the best writers, 
and the ablest critics in the countiy. Thousands of people looked to it before ex- 
pressing their own opinions upon the new theories in science and philosophy, upon 
books, art, and the drama, and accepted its judgment upon these matters as 
final. It also influenced the moral tone of its readers, and was more prominent 
than any other journal in the country in the interest and support it gave to all 
movements of philanthropy and reform. One of the great objects of its life was to 
promote the good and to put out, keep down, and reform the bad in all walks of 
life. Mr. Greeley was warmly interested in every movement that seemed likely 
to improve tlie condition and enlarge the opportunities of the toiling pooi'. He 
had Margaret Fuller come to New York partly to investigate the conditions of 
this class and to bring them before the public. By his rivals these interests were 
called the Tribune's " isms,'' and were much ridiculed. The piu'e and the 
rig'ht he was alwaj^s readj^ to champion either in the abstract or in special cases ; 
and he was equally ready to denounce anything or anybody that was breaking 
the highest laws of morality, and to pick such cases out and expose them to the 
public, whether in institutions or individuals. 

But probably the most powerful of all the influences Mr. Greeley exerted was 
in politics. This began in the old Log-Cabin days, and lasted as long as he 
lived — longer, for the Tribune is still what he made it. At first, as a Whig, he 
was, as he said, the junior partner with the great politicians, William Henry Sew- 
ard and Thurlow Weed, in the famous " firm " of Seward, Weed & Greeley, 
whose influence is described in the sketch of Mr. Seward in the chapter on " Later 
Statesmen and Orators." When the Whig party died out the Tribune almost 
formed the Republican party, which it has stanchly supported ever since ; it has 
also been one of the longest and greatest advocates of the Protective Tariff that 
the country has ever had. Into whatever pohtical contest it took part it always 
threw its whole strength. At the time of the celebrated Kansas war in Congress 
it was all Kansas. It almost seemed as if the paper contained nothing else 
for months. On its thirtieth birthday it said of itself : " So long as slavery 



454 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

ciii'sed our country this journal was its decided and open though not reckless 
ad\ersaiy ; now that shivery is dead we insist that tlie spirit of caste, of ine- 
quality, of contempt for the rights of the colored race shall be buried in its 
grave." Temperance, woman's rights, the abolition of capital punishment, 
and the condition of the poor were a few other of the isms Mr. Greeley stead- 
fastl3' supported. At first he was in favor of allowing the States that wished 
to withdraw from the Union to do so, but when the war actually broke out 
he was a powerful suj^porter of President Lincoln and the Government ; and 
after the conflict was over he advocated the doctrine of " universal amnesty 
and universal suffrage" — that is, he was on the side of those who declared 
that the " rebels " should not be punished, and that negroes should be allowed 
to vote on equal teinns with white men. 

Mr. Greele3''s office-holding began when the Tribune was seven years old, by 
his election to Congress ; but although during all the rest of his life he was a 
candidate — sometimes successful and sometimes not — for many offices, from Rep- 
resentative up to the Presidency, he was not anxious to take such positions, and it 
was not in that field that he really shone. His true political power was in his papei*. 
*'' He brouglit into the discussion of political, social, and industrial questions, not the 
ambitions of an office-seeker, but a strong desire and purpose to secure the highest 
welfare of the w^hole people. If he was not always right on current questions, nor 
always free from the impetuosity which too often mars the efforts of reformers, 
he discussed those questions witli a vigor and intelligence not often shown by the 
conductors of political journals in his day. A high moral purpose was at the 
bottom of every form of political and social activity to which he lent his suppoi't, 
and few men, especially such a strong partisan, have ever enjoyed in a higher de- 
gree than himself the respect and confidence of his political opponents." He had 
the courage to go against anybody, when he thought it right. Many times he hurt 
liis own political influence by taking sides against an unpopular right. He wished 
to be honored, yet he was always careless of his own popularity and bent only on 
promoting the public welfare. 

The Weekly Tribune has alwa^^s been of even greater importance than the 
daily edition. From the first its contents have been clean, interesting, instructive, 
and of first-class literary merit ; its subscription price was placed at the lowest 
rate. It was advertised everywhere. It began to offer all kinds of premiums, 
from a strawberry plant and a gold pencil to a steel-engraving portrait of Horace 
Greeley, to swell its number of subscribers. It established the club system now 
used by many publishers ; and hy many clever schemes pushed its circulation 
into almost every Republican family in the country. 

The year in which the Tribune was founded Mr. Greeley also began to publish 



Hoixtce Greeley. 455 

a " Political Register ;" a useful and valuable little manual ot political statistics. 
This was a very successful enterprise, and was afterward enlarged and made into 
the " Whig- Almanac," and then the "■ Tribune Almanac," which has long been 
a very valuable little pamphlet and as much of an institution in the country as the 
Tribune itself. Other extras, special lectures, portraits, and books are also pub- 
lished at this office, for sale or to be given away for certain numbers of subscribers 
to the daily or the weekly paper. 

Outside of his newspaper writing — which was among the very best this coun- 
try has ever published — Mr. Greeley wrote several books upon political questions, 
on American liistor\-, and related the story of his own career in '•• Recollections 
of a Busy Life." He was also a well-known lecturer on social and political re- 
forms and on agricultural and manufacturing interests. Though he was unim- 
pressive in looks, voice, and manner, he was so well known and so much esteemed 
for his character and opinions that he always drew a large and attentive audience, 
and it was in this way as well as in the columns of the Tribune that he did more 
than almost any other man of his time to promote the development of the great 
interests of the people. 

The last chapter of Mr. Greeley's life was very sad. He allowed himself to be 
nominated for President in the campaign of 1872, and he not only suffered the 
pain of defeat, but he was bitterly accused by his old friends, as well as by political 
enemies, of being disloyal and unprincipled, and of many other dishonorable 
offenses. This, together with the severe illness and death of his wife— over whose 
bed he watched in deepest anxiety for weeks— so overtaxed his powers that he 
died very soon after the news of General Grant's election was announced. " It 
was not the presidential defeat, but the cruel impeachment of his integrity by old 
friends that wounded his spirit past all healing." When it was too late his coun- 
trymen awoke to an expression of how deeply they admired and loved him ; and 
offices of respect that he could not feel showed how great a place he had won in 
the hearts of all good men of all parties and every variety of opinion. He was a 
man who made a great mark in journalism— few in the world have been greater— 
and he was " one whose name will live long after many writers and statesmen of 
g7*eater pretensions are forgotten." A writer says, such men as he hav^e taught 
the world to avoid many errors and have set an example of sincere devotion to a 
noble cause of disinterestedness and lofty aims. 

Horace Greeley was born at Amherst, Ncav Hampshire, February 3, 1811. He 
died in New York City, November 29, 1872. 

The Tribune has had many of the greatest American writers upon its staff, 
but none, perhaps, who have risen to greater power and fame than Charles A. 



456 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Dana, the present editor of the New York Sun, and Henry J. Raymond, who was 
the founder of the New York Times. 

New Hampshire has been generous to her country with her great men ; and 
eight years after she gave us Horace Greeley, his famous brother journahst, 
Charles Anderson Dana, was born there. He entered the newspaper world 
with a good education — mostly gained at Harvard College — after spending some 
months with Hawthorne, George Ripley, and several other noted people in the 
famous Bi'ook Farm community near Boston. In fact, about his first work in 
journalism was as one of the editors of The Harbinger, a journal that set forth 
the ideas of the celebrated French socialist, Charles Fourier. As Mr. Greeley had 
a great deal of sympathy with the views of this writer, not long after the Brook 
Farm company separated, Mr. Dana — and Mr. Riplej^ too — became writei'S for 
the Tribune. Mr. Ripley, who was formerly a Unitarian clergyman, became 
literary editor at a salary of five dollars a week. He was probably the ablest 
critic this country has ever produced, and did a great deal toward forming tlie 
Tribune'' s standard in these matters. 

Mr. Dana having a good knowledge of foreign languages, of facts in Old 
World politics, and many ideas about European matters, took charge of the for- 
eign department of the paper for twelve dollars a week. (Prices for newspaper 
work have vastly changed since then.) 

Before long he went to Europe, and during the Revolution of 1848 he was the 
regular Tribune correspondent from France. When he came back to America 
Mr. Greeley offered him the post of his first assistant, or what is called the office of 
managing editor. He held this position for more than ten years, working mean- 
while with Mr. Ripley upon the New American Cyclopaedia, published by the firm 
of D. Appleton & Company. This task was both large and severe, but they put 
most faithful service into it, and had the satisfaction of seeing it take its place at 
once as a standard work in America and in England. 

Mr. Greeley held Mr. Dana in very high regard at this time, and more than 
once spoke of his great ability; but they did not always agree. In 18G1, about 
the time that the famous " On to Richmond " movement was made— that which 
hastened the sorry battle of Bull Run— there was a serious disagreement between 
them, and Mr. Dana left. In a short time Mr. Stanton appointed him Assist- 
ant Secretary of War, and sent him to the West to help along the plans of 
General Grant. Until the summer of 1805 Mr. Dana remained in this post, an 
active and able helper in the great Union cause. Then he went back to newspa- 
pers, this time to Chicago, where he became editor-in-chief of the new party jour- 
nal, the Cliicago Republican ; but here, too, there was a disagreement, and Mr. 
Dana was paid ten thousand dollars to give up his interest in the paper and leave 



Charles Anderson Dmia. 



457 



it. He did so, and returned to New York just in time to join in with a section of 
the Republican party who wanted a new org-an. He met them want by buying- 
the New York Sun of Mr. Moses S. Beach. There was a strong- effort made by 
the New York Press to keep this party from starting- a paper, and Mr. Dana's 




'^^^^^iv, ff, , 



Charles Anderson Dana. 



purchase was a very clever turn in the face of the Associated Press, which sud- 
denly found that the new independent Republican paper, which they thought their 
opposition had about made impossible, was issuing- out of one of their own sub- 
scribers — the Sun, the oldest penny paper in America, which had led a prosperous 
Democratic life for over thirty years. 



458 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

This was the beginning- of the New York Sun of the present day — famous for 
its able editorials, its sparkling items, its brevity of words and fullness of news. B3' 
a g-reat deal of hard work upon the Sun Mr. Dana soon made it a powerful rival 
of the best dailies in New York ; he improved the contents, the news, the editorials, 
and tlie literary matter ; he advertised it far and wide, offering- premiums and al- 
most every other inducement that could be thoug-ht of ; and, though he raised the 
price to two cents a copy, it soon had an immense circulation. It is still in its 
g-lory, at the head of a certain class of small-sized, low-priced, but powerful 
and popular dailies, some of which are published in New York, and others in vari- 
ous parts of the country. 

Mr. Dana is about the only g-reat editor of the past generation that is living. 
His old friends and fellow- workers of the stii-ring- times in American politics have 
passed away ; but he still holds the reins of his great daily with all his former 
streng-th and ability. 

As a g-entleman he is very much admired for his handsome looks and courtly 
bearing", for his literary tastes and unusual accomplishments, and for his beauti- 
ful, courteous manners. His love for his friends, and especially for his family, is 
one of his most delightful social traits to all who know him. 

Charles A. Dana was born at Hinsdale, New Hampshire, August 8, 1819. 
He is now living* in New York City. • 

There have been very few men in the newspaper work of America that are 
more widely known and more deeply respected than Henry Jarvis Kayiiioiid, 

the founder of the New York Times. He was born in a village of Lima, in Liv- 
ingston County, New York, and there, a lovable, g-ifted boy, he began his educa- 
tion in a district school near his father's house. Quick to learn and anxious to 
push ahead in life, he was soon able to enter the villag-e academy, from which he 
went to the Genesee Wesleyan Seminary, and in the beginning- of the famous 
hard times of 1836, when he Avas only sixteen years old, he entered the University 
of Vermont. He outstripped most of his fellows there, and at the close of the reg- 
ular four years' course, he graduated at the head of his class. 

When this brilliant, energetic young man left college he had made up his mind 
to be a teacher ; he had already taught for a short term in a district school in 
New York; State, and he went to work at o'nce to find a school. But after looking- 
in vain for several weeks, he gave up the search, and resolved to go to New York 
City and see what work he could get there. He found his niche for a time in a 
down-town lawyer's office, where he studied law and earned his living by teaching 
a Latin class in a classical school and writing for the country press and for Hor- 
ace Greeley's New Yorker; he had begun to write for this while at colleg-e. 



Henry Jarvis Raymond. 459 

Even at this age, he showed remarkable gifts and abihty, and before long- he 
was offered two positions : one was to go South and teach school for four hundred 
dollars a year, the other was to stay in New York and work on Horace Greeley's 
paper, for the same price. He decided to accept the latter, and striking- root 
where he was, he soon g-revv to be one of the best reporters in the countiy. In less 
than a year Mr. Greeley started the New York Tribune, giving- Raymond the 
place of assistant editor ; and it was there, in the modest little office at No. 30 
Ann Street, in a responsible place on one of the g-reatest papers of the day, that 
he laid the foundation of his fame — by untiring- industry, by quickness and enter- 
prise in g-etting- in his articles ahead of other reporters, and by the ease, readiness, 
and brilliancy of his writing-. He would — says an editor of one of the great mag- 
azines of Raymond's day — ^write a leader or take down a speech, after a shorthand 
method of liis own, with equal skill; and Mr. Greeley has since said of him that 
he was the only assistant he ever had whom he felt it his duty to advise to work 
less hard. 

After two years — busy, active years of varied labors — he went from the Trih- 
une to the Courier and Enquirer, where he stayed until he had rounded out ten 
full years of editorial work. During the last three years of this time he had 
also been a figure in New York politics, as a Whig member of the State Legis- 
lature, and Speaker of the Assembly for the last two terms. 

In 1851 Mr. Raymond resigned from the Courier and Enquirer and left pub- 
lic office for a sojourn of several months hi Europe. In midsummer he came back 
with his plans all laid and most of his arrangements made to begin at once the 
great work of his life. 

For a long time it had been his ambition to found a public journal that was 
different from all those already in existence and which should supply the want 
that they did not meet. The Tribune and the HeTald were making such great 
fortunes that there were plenty of capitalists — George Jones, a publisher, E. B. 
Wesley, a banker, the Harper brothers, and others — who were ready to form a 
compan}^ and supply the money needed to start it, especially as there was a 
greater demand for newspapers of this class than the machinery of those already 
established could fill. So it was that very soon after he came back from Europe 
^-onthe ISth of September, 1851 — the first copy of the New Yoi-k Times appeared, 
announcing itself as an independent paper and modeled on a plan of Raymond's 
own, which was between the two extremes of the Herald and the Tribune. The 
price was one cent. " It began its prosperous life with a handsome bank account 
of one hundred thousand dollars, and it is no small credit to its founder that this 
capital returned interest before the end of the third year. It drew at once to its 
staff the best talent in the counti-y, and in both ability and reliability came nearer 



4G0 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

to the standard of the Nation and the best Eng-Ush papers than any other journal 
in the land. In tliis Mr. Raymond's influence controlled the whole staff. He had 
a true sense of the dignity of his profession and his responsibility to the public ; 
and he was too conscientious, not merely morally but intellectually, to permit his 
being- drawn into the vortex of I'adical politics and reforms. He was not only a 
writer but a thinker, and he could not fail to see that in life there is no such thing- 
as absolute and unqualified truth ; he could not help seeing- all sides of a subject, 
what it did not as well as what it did take in. Seeing- this, it was simply impossi- 
ble for him to grasp one side of an idea and crusade ag-ainst whoever happened to 
view it at another angle." 

The first number, though edited in '' pigeon-hole" quarters on Ann Street, 
and brought out in an unfinished building, with many drawbacks and obstacles in 
its way, was a better sheet than any other first number that a New York newspa- 
per office had ever produced. During the first week subscriptions and advertise- 
ments poured in ; at the end of the second ^xar the paper was doubled in size and 
price, and then it began to pay dividends, small at first, but rapidly increasing. 
Then its office was removed to the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets, in the 
building afterward known as the Park Hotel. After that its proprietors began 
to buy real estate, and before long a handsome new building was built for it on 
the famous Old Brick Church property, where it now stands, worth a million of 
dollars or more. 

Among Mr, Raymond's strongest business traits was his appreciation of good 
workers and the value of good pay, and his gentlemanliness toward all his em- 
ployes. He understood how to control his temper, 3'et he could state facts and 
show his displeasure with great force when serious blunders were made. He made 
friends with his assistants, and began soon after the Times was founded to bi-ing 
them together at his house in social meetings. In this way he got acquainted with 
them outside of business talk, and they with him and with each other. Few knew 
him without loving and respecting him. One of his staff once said : '' Mr. Raymond 
was one of the most genial of companions — a man full of wit, originality, and va- 
riety ; but with an undercurrent of sadness in his whole being, due largely to his keen 
perceptions of life. He had had to fig]it his way in the world. His nature was 
a great one originally, and it came out of the trial like gold out of the furnace. 
He was incapable of an}^ want of generosity toward those who were struggling along 
the difficult and thorny path over which he had once traveled. He had gone 
through every variety of newspaper toil and was able to appreciate the eai-nest inten- 
tions of others." Ambitious he was, but never vain, never even satisfied, so great 
were the possibilities that he saw in his field of labor. He was a marvelous worker, 
very abstemious m his habits, which was the secret of his vast amount of labor. 



Henry Jarvis Raymond. 



461 



Like Mr. Greeley, he had a love for politics as well as newspapers, and, like that 
of his g-reat brother journalist, his public life was a failure. Some one has said, 
if he could have been placed at the head of a great party he would have been a 
distinguished statesman, but the task of climbing- to power demands certain qual- 
ities that he lacked. It was only about a year after the Times was founded that, 
as a delegate to the Whig National Convention at Baltimore, he went into public 
life for a second time. Two years later he was elected Lieutenant-Governor of 




George Wu^liam Curtis. 

New York State, and in 1856 lie di-ew up the famous " Address to the People," 
which was adopted by the Republican party at its first national convention. He 
also took an important part in the great campaign of 1860, which ended in the 
election of President Lincoln and the secession of the Southern States ; and to- 
ward the close of the war he was elected to the Thirty-ninth Congress, where he 
gained marked distinction in the stormy debates of that famous session. 

He was a conservative Republican in his views, which he advocated in many 
powerful speeches ; but the radical side of the party was too strong for him, and 
no eloquence or ability could secure the other's success. The Philadelphia Con- 



462 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

vention of August 14, 1864, which ended in failure, drew forth Mr. Raymond's 
warmest sympathies. He prepared the Declaration of Principles adopted by the 
Convention, and presented it with an address which, it has been said, forms one 
of the most sagacious, lucid, and statesman-like documents in our political litera- 
ture. But the Convention was held in vain, and Mr. Raymond never again took 
a prominent part in public life outside of his newspaper duties. He finished his 
term in Congress, declined a renomination, and from that time to his death — the 
sad, untimely stroke that carried him away in the very prime of life— he confined 
himself entirely to his editorial work. 

His political career drew forth regret from his friends, gibes from his enemies, 
dissatisfaction and even malediction from the greater part of his party. He saw 
too many sides "to a subject to be a politician. " A man who steps into the mire of 
American politics, particularly when the tides of party feeling ran as high as they 
did at that time, must go in with his whole heart and soul, or he is certain to 
miss the mark. There is no room for doubt, for hesitation, for inquiry ; " and 
this Raymond could not do. He fought brilliantly, he left a noble record, but he 
fought a fight of which the issues were fated against him. And the failure 
injured his fame and impaired his usefulness. 

It was only after his death that justice was done him. Then " those who had 
'pursued and vilified him in life were the first to pay tribute to his merits. The 
good that he did lived after him ; the evil, it was confessed, never existed."' 

Henry J. Raymond was born at Lima, New York, January 24, 1820. He died 
in New York City, June 18, 18G9. 

Among living journalists there are few if any of greater influence or fame than 
George William Curtis, the editor of Harper's Monthly and Harpers 
Weekly. He is a native of New England, but came to New York with his family 
when he was fifteen years old. Here he had only a little more time for study be- 
fore he was put to business in the counting-house of a dry goods importer, where 
he stayed until he was eighteen years old. It was about this time that the Brook 
Farm community was started, and after about a year of counting-house work Mr. 
Curtis and his elder brother went up to Roxbury to join the famous little company 
of socialists there. A year and a half he spent among them, studying and work- 
ing on the farm, and then for another year and a half he helped a Concord farmer 
with his regular out-of-door work. Then he went to Europe, and after a twelve- 
month of travel entered the University of Berlin, living in the Prussian capital 
during the revolutionary scenes through which it passed in 1848. After this he 
had more travel— through Central and Southern Europe, and also through Egypt 
and Syria. Some of these experiences he put in a book called " Nile Notes of a 



Ge(/r(j<i W. (JIahla. i<;?j 

Howadji," which was pubhshe<I after he returned liorne in J 800. It had a pleas- 
inf^, stcetchy style, and was so successful tttat its author bej^an another- vohime, 
and in a couple of years Latcir the " Howadji in Syria " came out, meeting- with 
still gr-eater success, Mr, Curtis has written /nany books since tliat time, but 
[Kiople say that thLs is still tiie most charrain^- of iiis works. 

Iti the meantime he had. found reg-uiar literary woik on the editorial staff of 
the Tribune, and in a siior-t time he began U) make for himself quit<i a name by 
the d<?]ightful letteis now gathered in the book called " L<jtus Eating.'" In 1802 
he became one of the editors of the newly-sl;;irl>id J^utriAxm^a Magazine, and after 
that died he found his permanent place with th<i lir-nj of Har-per &: Brothers, which 
he still holds as editor of the Weekly and the Monlhbj at a salary, it is said, of 
fifteen thousand dollars a year for life. It has \HHin said that ** Mr. Curtis lias a 
reputation that Ls higber probably and at the same time more purely lit«irary tlian 
tliat of any other man in the profession. As the amiable and cultivatt^d occupant 
of the 'Easy Chair' of Harper' h M<mtkly, as the lett^^r-writirjg 'Bachelor' of 
Harper's Bazar, and especially as the editor-in-chief of Harper's Weekly, he 
has exercised an influence upon the reading public of America which, if it ii» not 
profound, has certainly been genial, deviating, and j-efining. There are few men 
in America who, when they take up their petjs, can be sure of reaching so wide 
an audience; and there Is scarcely another who, luis'ing written so much, cjin 
look back over the record and find so little to reg^r-et." 

Nor have Mr. Curtis's labors been c(/iifined to journalism. He is always in 
^eat demand at college and other liter-ary wilebrations. As a lyceum lecturer 
there are only one or two in the country of greater fiopularity, 

(jeorge William Curlis was born in Providencti, Rhode Island, February 24, 
1824. His home is on Staten Islarjd, arjd most of bis life is spent in New York 
City. 

Probably the grea1j<3st newspaper man in America, outside of New York City, 
is Cieorge W. OhildB, the owner and (iditor of the celebrated Philadelphia 
Public Jjedger. This was one of the first and most successful penny journals in 
this country, and was established by three New York printers, when ^Ii-, Childs 
was a little fellow only seven years old. It liad been g-oing and prospering for 
seven years before he knew much if arjything about it, for he was a Maryland lad, 
and did not go to Philadelphia until ha was four-t^ien years old^ Then, being poor 
and with his living to earn, he went ther-e to make his fortune in -the modest be- 
ginning of clerk and errand-boy in a book-store. He always liad a tasti for busi- 
ness and a determination to make his own way; he began to be an errand boy in^ 
a book-store at home during the school vacations when he was only t«:;n s-earsold. 



464 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Then he was in the na\'^' for fifteen months, and after that went to the City of 
Brotherly Love and big book-stores. He had wonderful quickness and busi- 
ness push, so that he was soon sent by his employer to all the trade sales at New 
York and Boston to make the regular purchases ; and in four years he startef> 
into the trade for himself. He hired an office in the old Ledger building, where 
he sold newspapers and magazines, and began to build up the business which soon 
became so impoi'tant that throughout the country when any one spoke of the 
" Philadelphia Pubhsher," it was known that he meant'George W. Childs. From 
the beginning he was so smart and industrious and so full of self-reliance that 
he pushed right ahead, seeming to feel that he would make his way to great 
things. He was sure to win, for beside his other business (qualities he had judg- 
ment — the rarest of all faculties. 

One day the celebrated owner of the Ledger, Mr. W. M. Swain — one of the 
three New York printers — was talking- with his young tenant about his prospects 
in business, and Childs said : " I have made up my mind, Mr. Swain, to own the 
Ledger one of these days." " Have you? Well, my young friend, you will be 
an old man before you accomplish that, I guess," said the proud proprietor; 
but time showed that he was not a prophet. The seller of journals became a 
seller of books, then a publisher, and with tact, courage, perseverance, and skill, 
a great publisher. He became one of the firm of Robert E. Peterson & Co., after- 
ward Childs & Peterson, and then he united with the house of J. B. Lippiucott & Co. 
He brought out some of the most important books m the country about the time 
of the Rebellion, and in 1863 he became editor of the American Litera?'!/ Gazette 
and Publishers'' Chronicle, which he made on.e of the leading booksellers' maga- 
zines of the country, a most valuable journal to the trade, and an interesting one 
to the public. It has now become the Publishers' Weekly, and is published in 
New York. 

Thus Mr. Childs spent sixteen years gaining wealth and wisdom, and a vast 
amount or experience in selling newspapers and publishing books, carefully read- 
ing the New York Herald and the Public Ledger, looking over the best English 
law-books for reprinting in America, examining the manuscript of some of the 
ablest and most instructive books that were written at that time, and in doing a 
great deal of other reading, thinking, and observation. Along with this culture 
and knowledge of books he had been laying up money, till at last he found him- 
self with enough to realize his long dreamed of ownership of the greatest daily 
paper in Philadelphia. 

Then one day Mr. Swain had a caller, and, on looking up he saw Mr. Childs, 
a full-faced, neatly di'essed, courteous gentleman, who appeared that day rather 
.confident in his manner and very much to the point in his conversation. He first 



George W. Chilch. 



405 



recalled the " threat" he made to Mr. Swain sixteen years before, and then told 
liiiii that he had never forg-otten it, and that his special business with him that da3' 
was to carry out this purpose. After some talk and several more visits he suc- 
ceeded, and on the 3d of December, 1804, the Ledger lost Mr. Swain — who re- 
tired *' trebly a millionaire "' — and gained Mr. Childs, and with him a migiity im- 




George W. Childs. 



pulse toward greater power. It was already a very important paper, but the 
hew owner saw where it could be vastly improved and he set to work at once 
to g-ive it a wider and more comprehensive grasp of intellect in its manag-e- 
ment. The reading columns began at once to show more industry, more power, 
and greater variety. One of the most splendid buildings in Philadelphia was 
ibuilt for its editors, clerks, machinery, compositors, and customers. Its new im- 



466 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

pulses increased the demand. Mr. Childs raised the price to two cents — ahiiost 
all the papers had to do so duiing- the war or afterward, because paper and other 
materials cost so much more than they had before — and still it prospered im- 
mensely in both circulation and advertising-. 

It has made its owner a much richer man than he was before and in more 
ways than one has greatly enlarged his chances for doing good — which seem to 
him to be the real value of wealth and power. He is noted for the generosity he 
has shown to writers and literary people, both the struggling young ones and 
those that are well known ; and there are few men in the country who have given 
greater aid to worthy charities than he. He offers prizes and other inducements 
to bring out the best talent among American authors. Having excellent taste 
himself and good assistants in all departments, he keeps the Ledger up to a good 
literary standard. His weekly is the old Dollar Weekly to which Mr. Swain 
clung as long as he lived, " so as not to leave journalism," he said, " in giving up 
the dailj^" It is now called the Home Weekly, and has an immense circulation. ' 

Many of Mr. Childs's charities are of his own planning and for the benefit of 
men, women, and children connected in one way or another with the newspaper 
business. He has established a printers' cemetery at Woodlands ; he has given £a 
handsome sum for a fund for the widows and orphans of printers ; and he pre- 
sented ten of his leading employes with life insurance policies for the benefit of 
their families. Once a year— on Christmas or Fourth of July, or some such great 
holiday— he brings all the newsboys of Philadelphia together for a great feast. 

As a man he has the esteem and friendship of our own greatest soldiers, 
statesmen, and financiers; he is the intimate friend of nearly every celebrated man 
and woman of the age, both at home and abroad ; he is welcome in every society 
for his virtues as a gentleman even more than his fame as a wealthy publisher 
and able journalist. 

Mr. Childs was born in Baltimore, Maryland, May 12, 1829. His home is now 
in Philadelphia. 



DISTINGUISHED ARTISTS. 



IT has been said that America has produced only one great musician. That 
was Lowell Mason, teacher, composer, and leader of the public taste. He 
had an inborn genius for melody and harmony, which showed itself when he was a 
baby. But seventy-five years ago music was very little understood in this comitry. 
In New England — where Mason was growing- into young manhood at that time — 
people still felt as the early Puritans did, that music was a vain and unholy art. 
They sang hymn-tunes in church, to be sure, but that was all the music they 
believed in, and it must have been very little indeed. Hymn-sounds were a better 
word, for the meeting-house singing in those old days had time, perhaps, but 
neither tune nor expression, surely. It satisfied the congregation ; it was praise to 
God, and to them that was all the place that music had in the world. So, when 
this little Lowell would do nothing but sing and play on every musical instrument 
that he could find, nearly everybody who knew him thought it was a great pity, 
and that he would never be of any account in the world. 

His father was in despair. He tried to have the lad help him in his business, 
which was keeping a country store, but he had not the least interest in the store, 
and often forgot all about it. Sometimes when his father would leave him alone 
in charge of it, if he happened to see some boy who liked to hear him play — if it 
was only on a jew's-harp — he would wander off with him, all taken up with the 
music, and without a single thought for the store. For this "mooning" and 
carelessness young Lowell Mason soon got the name of being an untrustworthy, 
idle boy. But whenever he had a chance to use his great musical gifts, he wa-s 
industrious enough ; he was ready to undertake any amount of labor if it was 
musical labor. He did not alwa^^s behave well to the people about him, who mis- 
understood him or his passion for music, but he was not a bad bo^-, though people 
often said he was. He did nothing vicious, and throughout his life he was a man 
of upright, pure mind and good habits. His delight in musical instruments 
made him learn to be saving of his money so that he could buy them. Then as 



46b One Hundred Famous Americans. 

he had no one to teach liiin to pkiy on them, he taught himself, and to do that 
took patience and perseverance. 

When he was sixteen years old he took charge of the village choir, and from 
that time till he Avas tAventy he spent much time teaching- singing classes in 
his neigliborhood. Then he went to live in Savannah, Georgia. He Avas older 
noAv, and realized that he must earn his living in the Avorld like other men, and 
as he could not do it by music alone, he obtained a position in a bank, using his 
spare time — Avhich happened to be abundant — in training church choirs. 

People in SaA'annah A\'ere more interested in music than were those of the Mas- 
sachusetts Aillage of Medfield, and after aAvhile Mr. Mason Avas iuAited to give a 
public concert. He had a large audience, and everybody Avas delighted Avith him 
and tliought him a wonderful musician. 

The wild boy had noAv become an excellent, religious young man ; and so he 
had a double interest in sacred music. It was worship to him, as well as art; 
but the poor quality of it pained him still, and in the course of time he Avas the 
meajis of bringing about a great change in it all over this country. 

At SaA'annah Mr. Mason had the good fortune to meet a thoroughly trained 
musician, avIio gUA'e him very A^aluable lessons in harmony and musical composi- 
tion. With this noAv knoAvledge, he began thinking of introducing into his church 
choir an entirely different and much better class of hymn-tunes than were used in 
any of the Protestant churches in the United States. The way he did this Avas 
not by thinking that he himself could Avrite better sacred music than the tunes 
sung in the churches ; he knew that the old masters of Europe had Avritten the 
best Avorks in the Avorld, so he searched the works of the great and famous com- 
posei's of sacred music of the last century, Handel and Haydn, and Avith his 
own skill in harmony and counterpoint set passages from their works to the grand 
old church hymns, and taught them to his choir. These experiments Avere suc- 
cessful, so he kept on, and after a time he found that he had so many of these 
beautiful hymns that he began to think about making a book of them, so that 
other church choirs might also use them. 

Nine years after he first AA-ent to Savannah he returned to Boston with his mu- 
sical manuscripts, to look for a publisher. This Avas a discouraging errand for 
awhile. He did not Avant to copyright his hymns, because he Avanted everybody to 
use them ; they Avere for Avorship, and he cared more about doing good with them 
than for making money out of them for himself. But no publisher Avas Avilling to 
take the risk of publishing them on any terms. At last he turned to the Handel 
and Haydn Society, a new musical club that had been formed in Boston but a 
short time before Avith the object of making people understand and love the music 
of the tAvo great composers Avhose names it took. It was already Avell knoAvn in 



Lowell Mason. 



469- 



the musical world, and Mr. Mason thoug-ht that, as his book contained so much of 
the music of Handel and Haydn, perhaps the society would publish it ; and after a 
good many doubts, they consented to do so, and the book was brought out with 
the name of the " Boston Handel and Haydn Society's Collection of Church Mu- 
sic." It made a great success at once. So many copies of it were sold that the 
society made a great deal of money out of it, and became far more important than 




Lowell Mason. 



it had ever been before. All over the country the new book came into use, and it 
purified and raised people's taste in music wherever it went. Having once svmg 
this kind of music they could never go back and be contented to sing the sort of 
tunes they had had before. 

Dr. Mason's fame became so great after this that many people in Boston 
thought he ought to be there instead of in Savannah. Finally three churches 
agreed to pay him two thousand dollars a year — then considered a large salary — - 
if he would come to Boston and take charge of their choirs. He did so, and before 



470 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

long- he gave up two of the choirs and devoted all his time to the other one — the 
choir that belonged to Dr. Lyman Beecher's church. Here he worked with his 
whole heart ; he never spared any time or trouble to make the music of that choir 
as good as it could possibly be. His influence spread far and wide ; other musi- 
cians took up the same thing in other places, until there was a complete change 
in the musical taste of the entire country. He always made his church choirs feel 
that the music they made was not merely a sort of concert for show, but was a 
part of the solemn worship of God. 

Dr. Mason's musical labors went in another direction also. When he was 
about thirty-seven years old he succeeded in ai'ousing in Boston a g'reat interest 
in teaching" music to children. Before this time, no one in America had ever 
thought of making music a part of the regular education of young- folks. He 
made up large classes of children and taught them for nothing, he was so anxious 
to spread the knowledge of music, and to show how much of it children could 
learn. This action had a great and lasting effect ; music was made one of the 
regular studies in the public schools of Boston, with such great success that it 
has been taught there ever since ; and now most of the large public schools of the 
country have followed the example. 

Dr. Mason also proposed to open the Boston Academy of Music, which has 
ever since been a great musical institution. He was truly great as a teacher, as 
a great composer and an organist. He not only could play, write music, and 
bring people together in musical societies, but he had the power to give out his 
knowledge in a way that interested his pupils in their lessons and induced them 
to work for themselves They learned much beside music from him. He taught 
them to be industrious and self-reliant, and all his influence was used for their 
moral and religious good. 

As a man, he was courteous, kind, and frank in his manners, and of the most 
generous and upright cliaracter. The last years of his life were passed in a quiet 
country-seat, with his married sons and their families, and many friends close 
about him. He lived to sec his children and grandchildren grow up with some- 
thing of love and talent for liis own ai't ; and, long before the good old man — the 
venerable father of American music — passed away, he saw his son, Dr. William 
Mason, take his place among the first pianists in the country. 

Dr. Mason was boni in Medfleld, Massachusetts, January 8, 1792. He died at 
Orange, New Jersey, August 11, 1872. 

The first great American actor was Edwin Forrest, and there are many 
good critics who think we have never had another of equal power. He was the 
j^oungest son of a Scotchman — a rich Philadelphia merchant — and he was born in 



Edwin Forrest. 471 

the early part of this century. Before he and his brothers and sisters were grown, 
their father died, and their mother had a hard strug-gie to keep her family to- 
gether, but by industry and good management she brought them up respectably. 
She even planned to educate Edwin for the ministry because he had such a beauti- 
ful voice and showed so much talent for reciting verses and passages of Scripture. 
But his bent was for using his gifts in another way — on the stage. When he was 
real young he often managed to go to the theater, earning his ticket by distribut- 
ing play-bills on the street, waiting on the employes, or doing anything he could. 
Very soon he made up his mind that he wanted to be an actor himself. 

When he was eleven years old a manager who had often seen him about the 
theater asked him one .day if he could play a girl's part; some girl who was 
to appear in a small part that night had been taken sick. Edwin was de- 
lighted at this ch'ance to come before the footlights, and set to work in a very 
boyish way to make himself look like a girl. His etforts were not very success- 
ful, though ; and when he stepped before the audience they laughed and hooted 
at the big boj-'s shoes and trousers that showed below his skirts. The people 
made such a noise that he could not make himself heard. Even this did not 
entirely abash him ; for some time he would not give up ; finally, when he had to 
come off the scene, he succeeded in making one line heard — he called to a boy in the 
pit, who was particularly noisy in his ridicule, and told him that when the play 
was over he would come out and '' lick him." 

The manager was so disappointed and mortified over this event that it was a 
long time before Edwin Forrest could get any other chance to play. In the mean- 
time his mother was apprenticing him to one tradesman and then to another to 
teach him, if possible, to be industrious and useful. But he had little interest in 
anj'thing outside of theaters. He was not contented until he had forced his wa}' 
upon that same stage where he had disgraced himself with the shoes and trousers, 
and had, as he felt, redeemed himself. Several times he got before the public, and 
each time he did so well that when he was only fourteen years old some promi- 
nent gentlemen of Philadelphia became interested in him, and finally got the use 
of a theater for him and gave him -a chance to take an important part. He made 
his own choice, and took the character of Young Norval in Home's tragedy of 
"Dougias." When the imj^ortant nig-ht came the house was filled with a larg-e 
audience. There were many good critics among them, and all were full of curi- 
osity to see what this presuming boy would do. They soon found out ; he as- 
tonished them with his power. Curiosity and criticism Avere turned into enthu- 
siastic praise. The performance was a triumph, and after it was over there was 
no doubt about the fact that Edwin Forrest had the genius of a great actor. He 
•did not enter the profession at once, though ; but went on working in a shop, as 



472 One Hundred Favioiis Americans. 

before, devoting all his spare hours to the work and study of fitting himself to 
enter the lists hy and by. 

When he was between sixteen and eighteen, he felt ready to begin, and, getting- 
an engagement in a travelling company, he was an actor for the rest of his life. 
He played all sorts of parts in his early years on the stage, working hard for little 
pay, and learning a great deal that was soon to help him take a foremost place 
among the actors of the woiid. Industrious and lovable, he made many friends 
among the best people he met ; and several of the most superior men and women 
of the country were deeply interested in his future. 

When he was about twenty-one, the great English actor, Edmund Kean, made 
a visit to this country, Forrest saw him during his tour, and afterward played 
with him^a most important event in the art of the promising young Philadel- 
phian. Kean's playing was a marvel of power and simplicity t6 him ; he watched 
him and studied his methods with the deepest interest — too great and too original 
himself to want to copy, or to be able to cop3^ any one, but not too much of a 
genius to learn a great deal from other members of his profession. Soon after 
theii' first meeting, Forrest had a chance to play in a performance given for the 
benefit of some charitable object, at a New York theater. He appeared as 
Othello — one of the most important and most difficult roles in the English drama 
— and his success was so great that he took his place at once among the greatest 
stars on the American stage. 

After this he played for five years without a break, in all the chief cities of 
the Union, the idol of the public, and the glory of the profession. By nature he 
was uncommonly well fitted for an actor. He was exceedingly handsome — with a 
tall, perfectly proportioned, and very muscular figure; a grand head, and a voice 
that was one of the most wonderful that was ever heard. His acting was what 
is called ''robust" — that is, he always used a great deal of strength and voice 
in all his parts. This was very marked when he was young — he did not then con- 
trol his enormous physical powers enough — but as years went on he became more 
finished and restrained. Kean taught him the value of a polished art. 

After he had thoroughly established himself at the head of his profession in 
this countrj^, he arranged to take a vacation of two years and go to Europe. At- 
the time of his departure he received attentions from many of the greatest men in 
America, and was more honored than any actor had ever before been in this 
country. 

If the people had done their utmost to honor him when he left them, they had 
learned how to do much more during the period of his stay ; for a tremendous 
welcome awaited him on liis return, and everywhere that lie went he found him- 
self most ardently received. Aftei' one great, successful season at home, he again. 



Edwin Forrest. 



475- 



went to Europe, and then arranged to play in London. He was the first Amer- 
ican actor of note who had ever appeared before a British public, and he did 
credit to the land he went from. The Britons recog-nized his merit, and received 
him with praise and flattering attentions, rating him among the world's greatest 
actors. His most important r^oles were the character of the Indian in the play 
"Metamora," the Gladiator, King Lear, and Othello, in Shakespeare's greatest. 




Edwin Forrest. 

tragedies ; Damon, in the play of '' Damon and Pythias," Virginius, and Hamlet, 
but to this last he was less suited than to all the others. 

After his first great triumph in England he visited the mother country sev- 
eral times and played inany successful eng-ag"ements there. 

As a man Mr. Forrest was high-tempered and undisciplined, but he had a 
sti'ong — though often rough — sense of honor, that scorned any sort of secret in- 
jury, such as he was once accused of in a famous quarrel between himself and the 
great English actor, William Macready. In his later years he made a great 



474 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

deal of monej', and wanted to do good with it. He loved his profession and his 
fellow-workers in it, so he established a Home for old and invalid actors in Phil- 
adelphia. He always loved books; he gathered together one of the finest 
private libraries in the country ; and throug-h his own efforts he became one of 
the most learned men of his time upon matters connected with the drama, past 
and present. 

Edwin Forrest was born March 9, 180G, in Philadelphia, where he died Decem- 
ber 12, 18: -2. 

No name connected with the history of the American stage is more famous or 
more honored than that of Charlotte Cushman. She was ten j^ears younger 
than Forrest, a native of Boston, and an actress for forty years. During most 
of that time she had no rival in this country in her powerful tragic I'ules, and 
scarcely an equal among all the English-speaking actresses of the world. 

Fi'om the time she was a little girl, Charlotte Cushman looked forward to a public 
life. When she was thirteen j^ears old her father lost his property, and it then 
became necessary for her to begin to prepare for some way of earning her living. 
She had an ear for music and a fine voice, and with the help of some good friends 
— she always had many of these — she began to study to become a music-teacher. 
Afterwards it was thought she might make a great success as a professional 
singer. Foi' this she took lessons and studied very hard, and when she was nine- 
teen years old she made her first appearance in opera in Boston. This made no 
great impression, but was so successful that she soon made an engagement to 
sing in opera in New Orleans. Here, in her great ambition to succeed, she strained 
and overworked her voice. In her unreasonable zeal she actuall}- lost her aim, for 
one day she found that she could sing no more. At first she was in despair — 
all the hopes and tlie efforts of the many friends who had aided her and all her 
own work had suddenly come to nothing ; but she had too strong and energetic a 
nature to waste much time in useless regrets. She went to consult a New Or- 
leans manager she kncAv, who said that perhaps it was not so great a misfortune 
after all, for he tliought she ought to be an actress and not a sing'er. Then he 
presented her to the most important man in his company to see what arrange- 
ment he could make for going on the theatrical stage. Her acting in opera had 
already made a good impression, and after a few rehearsals she had an engage- 
ment to play the part of Lady Macbeth. She was overjoyed at the idea of play- 
ing this part, in which in after years she achieved a world-wide fame. She had 
no suitable clothes, but she would not let that daunt her, and went at once to an- 
other actress in the city to try and borrow something to wear on this great occa- 
.sion. The lady to whom she went was kind-hearted and anxious to help the 



Charlotte Cushman. 



475 



ambitious young- girl ; but it was a very difficult task to make the clothes that 
fitted her short and fat bod}^ do for the tall and, at that time, thin, figure of 




Charlotte Cushman. 



Charlotte Cushman. They set to work, though, to do their best, and busily pieced 
down skirts, took in seams, and finally arranged a costume that they thoug-ht 
would do. Dress was not then regarded as so important a matter on the stage 



476 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

as it is now, and people who could act were praised, reg'ardless of tlie clothes 
they wore. 

Miss Cushinan's first appearance as Lady Macbeth was successful, but made 
no great sensation. The next year she came to New York to try and get un en- 
gagement. Before long* she made a contract to act for three years as leading- 
lady of the Bowery Theater ; her salary was to be twenty-five dollars a week for 
the first year, thirty-five a week for the second, and forty-five for the third. A 
good actress would think such prices very small nowaday- s ; but she was almost 
untried at that time, and her pay was then considered quite liberal. Miss Cush- 
man thoug-ht so, and sent for her mother and her young- brothers and sisters to 
come to live in New York, where she could be with them — for she was the pro- 
vider and care-taker for them, 3^oung' as she was. 

Once ag-ain her too g-reat energ-y and lack of caution g-ot her into serious 
trouble ; she so overworked herself in preparing- for her new eng-ag-ement that before 
the time came for her to appear she was taken seriously ill. For a long- time she 
was unable to do anything-. Thoug-h she was eng-ag-ed for three 3^ears she was to 
play only a month just at this time in New Yoi'k, and upon that month de- 
pended her whole future. When she g-ot well enough to act only a week of her 
precious month was left. During- that week she played a number of g-i-eat parts. 
She began with Lady Macbeth and scored a success at once. But now a new 
trouble met her. A fire broke out in the Bowery Theater, burning- the house and 
causing so much loss to the manager that he could not fullil the contract he had 
made with Miss Cushman. This was a terrible blow to her ; but she had a gallant 
and courageous spirit, and when she was baffled on one hand she Avas alwaj^s 
ready to tui-n to something- else. 

She soon got a five weeks' engagement in Albany, and her success there was 
so great that she stayed on at the same place for five months. This was a great 
thing for her ; it gave her a name with the public and some importance with 
managers and other actors. She had had a chance to show what she could do and 
had compelled admiration. She had also become more thoroughly in love with her 
profession than she ever was before, and had started upon that course of cease- 
less study and discipline Avhich she kept up to the end of her life, and which added 
greatly to her powers. Speaking- of a great trouble that came to her in her young 
womanhood, she said : ''Labor saved me then and always," and this Avas true 
of her in many ways. She was not a handsome woman, and yet she rose to 
the head of a profession in which it is said to be almost impossible for a woman 
to succeed without beauty. It was to her industry and ambition as much as to 
her genius that she owed this success. 

Eight A'ears after her appeai'ance in New York, and when she was at the 



Edwin Booth. 477 

height of her fame in this country, she went to Eng-land. There were many ob- 
stacles in her way there, and she was weeks and months in getting an opportu- 
nity to appear at all ; but all was overcome at last, and when she did appear be- 
fore the London public it was in a perfect triumph of success. This experience 
ended the period of her bitter struggles ; the rest of her life is a smooth record of 
appreciated work in her great art. 

Miss Cushraan's younger sister, Susan Cushman, followed her in her choice of 
a profession, and the two for several years were often seen together, oftenest 
a-ppearing in " Romeo and Juliet," Charlotte playing Romeo and Susan Juliet. 
Miss Cushman was said by good critics to be one of the best Romeos ever seen. 

Her parts were many and various, but her gifts were best shown in those that 
demanded force rather than softness, strength rather than the display of weak- 
ness. Queen Katherine, Meg Merriles, and Lady Macbeth were the characters in 
which she was most famous in her later 3^ears, and ones in which she will always 
rank as the first actress of the English-speaking stage, after England's grand 
genius, Mrs. Siddons. She loved to act and appeared in public as long as she 
possibly could. Even when her playing days were past she gave readings and 
recitations that were attended by vast crowds of enthusiastic people. 

She was admired, loved, and almost worshiped by the American public for 
years before her death. She had great social as well as dramatic gifts, and her 
company was eagerly sought by famous men and gracious women ; it seemed as 
if all the honors that her countrymen could invent for such a favorite were heaped 
upon her. During the latter years of her life she suffered greatl,y from a cancer, 
but she bore her pain silently and bravel}^ often cheerful and joking in spite of 
her agony. 

Charlotte Cushman was born July 33, 1816, in Boston, where she died Febru- 
ary 18, 1876. 

The most illustrious American actor now upon the stage is Edwin Booth. 

By his natural gifts, his exquisite art, and his beautiful character, he is an honor 
to his profession and his country, and holds a position at home and abroad that is 
unrivaled among American actors and eminent among all men. 

He is the son of Junius Brutus Booth — a popular English actor who came to 
America about twelve years before his famous son was born — and is now but little 
past middle life, in the prime of his powers and the height of his fame. He came 
into the world on the night of a great meteoric shower ; and the superstitious ne- 
groes on his fathei-'s place — which was then in Maryland — thought it was a sign 
that the babj^ would be "lucky," that his birth was accompanied by so many 
" falling stars." He was named bv his father after Edwin Forrest, a great rival 



478 One Htmdred Famous Americans. 

at that time of the elder Booth. Edwin's little-boy days were spent in the quiet, 
country life of the farm, with his brothers and sisters, and when he Avas old enough 
to studv he first went to a little old-fashioned country school. After awhile he 
was sent to a larg-er school at Baltimore, and when he was about fourteen years 
old his father beg'an to take him with him on some of his theatrical tours. How 
his schoolmates did envy him these journeys, but to Edwin the novelty of them 
soon wore off ; he would have gladly let any of the boys go in his place, for it 
wasn't much fun to him to have to constantly take care of and wait upon his 
father, who was as odd or eccentric as he was great. There were times when his 
father seemed almost insane, and though he w^as not intemperate — as many peo- 
ple once thought — he often behaved exactly like a man who had been drinking. 
The task of watching him and keeping him out of harm's way at sucli times now 
often fell upon Edwin. It was a trial for the young fellow, but he was conscien- 
tious and devoted in doing it. The father and son had a great deal of love for 
each other, and through many years old Mr. Booth relied very much upon his son 
for care and company. This sort of a life broke into the lad's studies and almost 
drove him to adopt his father's profession when the time came for him to take 
care of himself. 

But Edwin Booth had a bent for the stage which w^as so strong that he would 
probably have become an actor if it had been very difficult instead of very easy 
for him to enter the profession. He took his first part w^hen he was sixteen j^ears 
old. It was at that famous old theater, the Boston Museum, and his part was 
the small one of Tressel, in Shakespeare's play of "Richard III." Though he 
had been acquainted with stage matters and stage people all his life, and was the 
son and constant companion of a great actor, he did not expect— as do many young 
people who want to be actors — to leap at once into the foremost rank of his pro- 
fession ; he expected to learn its details and slowly and with hard work to make 
his way upward. He was playing with his father, and his father was really inter- 
ested in his performance, but he said very little to encourage the lad. He thought 
it best to let him rely upon his own judgment. 

Two years he worked humbly and industriously ; then he had his first impor- 
tant \)ixvt— Richard— m the same play he had first appeared in. His father was 
announced to take the part at the old National Theater, in New York, but at the 
last moment the old actor declared that he was sick and coidd not and Avould not 
play. Everything was in confusion and everybody in despair. " Play it your-^ 
self," said the father to the son, when Edwin besought him to come to the thea- 
ter ; and this he finally did. He had never prepared himself to take that char- 
acter, but he had heard it so often that he knew it by heart. So he put on his 
father's clothes, which were much too big for him, and went on the stage as Rich- 



Edtvin Booth. 



479' 



ard III. The audience were at first cold and curious, but before the play was 
over they applauded him long and loudly. It was the beginning- of his success ; 
but fame was yet far off. 

Soon after this event young Mr. Booth went to a theater in Baltimore at a salary 




Edwin Booth. 

of six dollars a week. Here he was to take ditFerent parts, but successful as he had 
been — ^youth and want of experience considered — in playing i?/c/iartZ JJ/., when he 
came to try to play different parts and different kinds of parts, he was awkward 
and confused and seemed an entire failure. So he had to go back to his father's 
company. The next year they went to California, then a new, wild countr^^ . 



480 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

It proved a very unattractive place for a popular actor, and before long old 
Mr. Booth returned to the States, leaving Edwin to take care of himself. He had 
.an exceedingly hard time in doing it, too. Theatrical business, in those days un- 
certain in the most favorable places, was extremely poor in the newly settled coun- 
try of the West ; and soon after his father left him the young actor started upon 
a most strange and varied set of experiences. Sometimes he had an engagement 
and money and almost as often he had neither. Once when he was very poor he 
took the last piece of money he ha'd and staked it at a gambling- table and lost it. 
This was the first time he had ever gambled, and it was the last. He has often 
said since that the loss- of that piece of money in that way was one of the most 
.fortunate things that ever happened to him, as it made him detest all forms of 
gaming forever. 

After many ups and downs he came to be a great favorite in California, and 
gained so much success that he was encouraged to think of coming back to New 
York and making another attempt before the audiences of the great city. He was 
■very modest and did not at all believe that he could become a great star; but he 
hoped to be a leading man in some New York stock company, which would at least 
be a good position and steady employment. He returned, got a place, and put 
forth his effort. It was clear to every one that he would succeed— more than 
that, that he had a most brilliant career before him. In many of his father's parts 
he aroused a good deal of enthusiasm, and as soon as he played Hamlet the best 
critics ill town recognized that his equal in that character was scarcely known in 
stage history. His graceful, slender form, his exquisite manner, his fine, melan- 
choly face made him the very ideal of the Prince of Denmark. From tiiat day to 
this Hamlet has been considered his greatest part, and most thoughtful critics 
find in him the finest Hamlet within the memory of his generation. He has made 
several professional tours through Europe and has been received with such honors 
and attentions as few artists of any land have been accorded. 

Mr. Booth has been twice married ; his second wife— once the celebrated actress, 
Miss McVicker, of Chicago— died some years ago, after a long illness in which her 
mind was much affected. For some years before her death her husband knew 
that she was not always entirely sane, but he did not let it become known to the 
world, and when strange things occurred in the family, which people did not un- 
derstand and about which they gossiped, he bore blame and slander hi silence, 
rather than let his wife's lapses of reason become public talk. After her death 
her friends and family told the truth, and also revealed the tenderness and devo- 
tion and the kind forbearance with which he had patiently made the best of hei* 
misfortune. 

In every w^ay Mr. Booth merits as much admiration as a man, as he wins as an 



Joseph Jefferson. 



481 



artist ; and all lovers of beauty and truth must nope that it will be long- before the 
story of his life can be completed. 

Edwin Booth was born in Hartford County, Maryland, on November 13, 1833. 
He is still playing- in one great city after another, both of Europe and America. 




Joseph Jefferson. 

The leading- comedian of America is Joseph Jefferson, who belong-s to 
the fourth g-eneration of actors in the Jefferson family. His g-reat-grandfather 
was in the same company for years in London with the illustrious Eng-lish actor, 
David Garrick, and was his friend and a man of standing- in his profession. It 
was this man's son who was the first famous " Joe " Jefferson, and who founded 
the American branch of the family. He came to this country near the close of the 
last century, and was for a long- time a successful and popular actor. He had a 
son, named after himself, who was the father of the present " Joe " Jefferson, the 
greatest representative of his famous family. 



482 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

This actor — who is iiog-reater in his exquisite art than in his virtues and good- 
ness of character — was born in Philadelphia, and made his first appearance before 
tlie footlights when he was a baby in long* clothes. When he w^as four years old 
he sang and danced before an audience of theatrical people, who felt that he did 
" very remarkably well." When he was eight years old he and his parents were 
engaged at the Franklin Theatre in New York, where he appeared in man^^ small 
parts and in some that were quite important. So it was that he grew up in the 
theatre, as it were; and he is not known to have ever thought of following- any 
other than the actor's profession. Between his engagements he was sent to school, 
and when he was playing he was taught at home, and the learning of parts was 
itself good training for his mind. 

Though he can scarcely remember the time when he was not on the stage, Mr. 
JefTei'soii's first marked success was when he was about twenty-five years. It was 
in the New York theatre of the then famous Laura Keene, and his performance 
was in the comedy part of Dr. Pangloss, in the play of " The Heir at Law." In 
this theatre Jefferson made a reputation for that delicacy and refinement of feel- 
ing that has always been a marked trait with him. Because he would not speak 
co;irse lines, or bring low jests into his parts some unworthy actors tried to quarrel 
with him and make him unpopular. They nicknamed him the '' Sunday-school 
comedian," but Jefferson took their taunts calmly, and would not in the least 
alter his course. The very names of the actors who attacked him have been long- 
forgotten, while that of Jefferson has reached an everlasting fame. 

His second season in New York made him widely famous. His position was 
assured by the success he made in the part of Asa Trenchard in the play of 
" Our American Cousin." In this he had a chance to be pathetic, and his ex- 
quisite pathos, his wonderful ability to bring tears and laughter at the same time 
is more than anything else the gift that has raised him above other comedians of 
his day. 

Jefferson's name is more associated with the character of Rip Van Winkle 
than with any other, though he has played many parts, and since he reached 
middle life, at least, he has played all of them well. 

His first visit to England was made when he was about thii-ty-two years old. 
H(! loft New York with an established reputation as a hue artist, but his greatest 
tiiumphs Avere still to come. He had taken the character of Rij) Van Winkle 
in one way here without attracting- special attention. But he felt that there was 
great merit in it if rightly produced, so he had the part r-ewritten and improved; 
then he gave it careful study, and finally when fully prepared he presented it on 
the London stage, where it met with enthusisatic praise at once. 

A great comedian — it is said — is always rarer than a great actor in tragedy ;, 



John Singleton Copley. 483 

and if ever that greatness lias been presented it is in the art of this famous man. 
The delicacy, the liumor, and the pathos, the knowledge of human nature and 
the sweet atmosphere of innocence and lovableness that mark Jefferson's Rip 
Van Winkle make it a perfect piece of acting — a true work of art, which people 
are the better for having- seen. A celebrated preacher says that it shows better 
than any sermon the beauty of charity, and adds that Jefferson is the " genius 
which God has g-iven us to show in the drama the power of love over tlie sins 
of the race." 

For many years after his appearance as Rip Van Winkle Mr. Jefferson 
played scarcely anything else. All the world was eager to see him in his great- 
est part, and would give him no chance to take up any other. It v\'as only after 
nearly twenty years of constantly g-iving Rip that, a few years ag-o, he made his 
appearance as Boh Acres in Sheridan's play of " The Rivals. Since then he has 
often been seen in several old English comedies, always successfully, but never 
with the perfection with which he portrays the famous idler of the Catskill 
Mountains, unless perhaps it is as Caleb Pluuimer. 

He has several sons, who are constantly' associated with him either as actors or 
as his business managers ; and all who know them in their family life love the 
Jeffersons and feel for them the respect that is due to high-minded men and 
women. 

Honorable, and g-entle, and refined are the terms applied to the great comedian 
by those who know him best. He is something of a painter as well as a great 
actor, and nianj^ of his pictures, thoug-h they are only the pastime occupation of 
his leisure, are really beautiful works of art, expressive of the delicacy and poetry 
that make him one of the most lovable of men even to the great public that sees 
him only over the footlig-hts. 

Joseph Jefferson was born in Philadelphia on February 20, 1829. He is still 
playing, chiefly in the large cities of this country. 

It has been said that the only American-born painter of real skill that lived and 
worked in this country before the Revolution was John Singleton Copley. 
He was a native of Boston, Massachusetts, and adopted painting- as his profession 
when he was seventeen years old. This was twenty-one years before the battle of 
Lexing-ton, when art was very little known in America and when the occupation 
of a painter was regarded with little favor by the practical Colonists. Through- 
out all the settlements there were only a few artists in the country' at that time. 
A small number of these were Americans, and the rest were foreigners ; none had 
any great ability. For the most part, they gave lessons and painted portraits ; 
but none of them came within Copley's circle. He had no teachers, and it is even 



48-4 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

said that when he took up the profession he had scarcely seen a picture of any 
merit besides his own. 

He was a very slow worker, and labored hard over his painting-s — which in 
his early .years were mostly portraits — giving- a great deal of care to all the little 
details of dress and suri'oundings. His skill was so wonderful that he soon made 
a great name and a good deal of money ; many pupils came to him, sometimes 
from a distance — in those days it was more of an undertaking to go from New 
York to Boston than it now is to cross the continent. There are still in existence 
many beautiful portraits froiti his hand ; for in those old Colonial days it was very 
fashionable to have the great Mr. Copley paint some member of almost every 
leading family in New England and New York. Beside his skill in making like- 
nesses and in faithfully picturing the handsome uniforms of the men and the gor- 
geous garments of the ladies, he was remarkably correct in his drawing and 
made most beautiful and brilliant colors. 

There was at that time very little in this counti-y excepting patronage to en- 
courage an artist ; and so most young men who had a taste or a genius for art 
went as soon as possible to Europe, where they could see the work of the great 
masters and liave association Avith other artists. Copley did not follow this plan 
until after he had been a painter for twenty years. Then, leaving- his wife and 
family for a time, he went to England, where his name w^as already known and 
some of his work had been exhibited. He found the people ready to welcome him 
and to buy his pictures, and might have become very successful at once if he had 
stayed there. But his object wa,s to go to Ital^^, and in that country he passed a 
cou]:)le of years in diligent stud3^ Then he returned to England, and changing- his 
mind about returning home, sent for his wife and family to join him — for the Ameri- 
can Revolution had just broken out in the Colonies, and Mr, Copley felt that it was 
a poor time for him to go back to New York : the people had something else to 
do than pati-onize art. So he settled himself to portrait-painting in London till 
the trouble in his own country should be over ; but he never returned to America. 

The English artists and the English public treated him very well indeed ; they 
ordered his paintings, elected him a member of the Royal Academy, and so en- 
couraged his talents that he finally undei'took history-j:)ainting-, in which he soon 
became very successful. During the pei-iod between the two wars between England 
and America, he was busy with his brush, now at historical pieces, now at portraits, 
making a good ]i\'ing and enjoying the i-espect and friendship of some of the best 
people in Great Bi-itain. The first of his famous pictures, outside of the portraits, 
was the "Boy and the Tame Squirrel;" and the greatest were the "Death of 
Majoi' Pierson " and the " Death of Lord Chatham." It is said that scarcely any 
paintings of the last century rank far above these works. Our artist's election to 



Benjamin West. 



485 



the Ro3^al Academy was upon the merits of the '" Death of Lord Chatham," which 
represents the great orator falhng-, just after lie had made his celebrated speech 
upon the American War, It also contains the portraits of the most distinguished 
peers of Great Britain at that time. 

Mr. Copley's powers always showed best in his portraits ; a few of his other 
works have an undying merit, while many were feeble and lifeless in drawing and 
cold and dull in color. 

As a man, there is little known of him. We are told that he was peculiar in 




John Singleton Copley. 

his dress and in his manners, fond of books, a lover of history, and well acquainted 
with poetry, especially the divine works of Milton. 

John Singleton Copley was born in Boston, Massachusetts, July 3, 1737. He 
died in London, England, September 25, 1815. 

The greatest historical painter of these early times, the first period in Amer- 
ican art, was Beiijainiii West. He was one year younger than Copley 
and the son of a Philadelphia Quaker. He chose the artists' profession a year 



486 One Hundred Famous Amerieans. 

before his brother-painter and was ah-eady settled in England Aviien the Revohi- 
tion broke out. From the time lie was a little boy in di-esses he showed a wonder- 
ful genius for making- pictures of what he saw. It is said tliat he had never seen 
a paintini;- or an ennravinti- till he made a colored di'awing- of his littlesistcr in 
the cradle. His ]>a rents disconra.ned him, but he had to keep on. His first paint 
was chimney-soot; but a band of wanderini;- Indians taui;-ht him to mix rude 
colors fnmi clays, such as they used to daub their faces; others he made from 
bark, leaves, and berries, and by g-rinding- charcoal and chalk. Blue he got from 
the indigo that his mother used in washing, and his brushes were made with hairs 
that he pulled out of his cat's tail. When he was liine yeai-s old he painted a 
picture in water-colors, which in some points— he said himself in after years — he 
never surpassed. 

The stor}^ is told of how he used to play truant from school, even when he was 
only nine years old, to work at his beloved pictures. As soon as he g-ot out of 
sight of his father and mother he would steal up to his garret, and there pass the 
hours in a world of his own. At last, after he had been absent from school some 
days, the master called at his father's house to inquire what had become of him. 
This led to the discovery of his secret occupation. His mother, going up to the gar- 
ret, found the truant; but she was so much astonished and delighted at the boy's 
work that met her view when she went into his stolen studio, that, instead 
of rebuking him, she could only take him in her arms and kiss him again and 
again. 

The people of that day, especially the Quakers, looked ui)on picture-making 
as a thing that should never be encourag-ed ; but all attempts to keep Benjamin 
from it were in vain. He seemed to be inspired, and many of the Friends were 
afraid to oppose him. Finally a public meeting was called to see what should be 
done with the strange child, and after talking over it a long while the good Qua- 
ers came to this decision : " To John West and Sarah Pierson a man-child has 
been born on whom God has conferred some remarkable gifts ; something amount- 
ing to inspiration, and the youth has been induced to study painting. Such rare 
gifts cannot but be for a wise and good purpose. The Divine Hand is in this. 
We shall do well to encourage this youth." Then the lad was called into the 
meeting, and, standing with his mother on one side and his father on the other, 
he was surrounded by the assembly, which listened while the famous John Will- 
iamson said : "This genius is given by God for some high purpose. He hath in 
this remote wilderness endowed with the rich gifts of a superior spirit this j^outh. 
He hath our consent to cultivate his talents for art." The meeting was then 
closed, and as the women ]xissed around they kissed the young artist and the 
men laid their hands upon and gave hnu their blessing. 



Benjamin West. 487 

But Benjamin West was born to bo himself whether he had the Friends' con- 
sent or not ; and while the Society was considering- whether they were willing- to 
let him paint he shocked them still further ])y joining- a military company that 
went out to look for the I'cmains of Braddock's army after it was defeated by the 
Indians in attempting to capture Fort Duquesne. 

When the lad was sixteen he had already adopted art for his life-work. In 
the course of two years he painted portraits in the villages near Philadelpliia, 
made his first historical picture — ''The Death of Socrates" — for a gunsmith, 
and then, enlarging- his field, painted portraits in Philadelphia, and finally in New 
York. Here iie met some generous merchants who felt that his remarkable gifts 
oug'ht to be cultivated, and offered to help him with money to g-o to Italy, the 
land of pure art and g-reat painters. 

Being the first American artist who had ever gone to that country he wjis 
cordially welcomed in Rome. One of his patrons was Lord Gratham, of whom 
he made a portrait that attracted a good deal of attention, and was at first 
thought to be the work of Raphael Mengs, one of the first European portrait- 
painters of that day. His g-enius bloomed still finer with cultivation, and in ;i 
few years he became a member of the greatest art societies of Italy. 

In 17G3, after he had been three years in the land of art and sunny skies, he 
started for home by the way of England. The people and the artists of London 
received him with marked respect, paid many tributes to his skill, and finally in- 
duced him to remain with them rather than g-o back to America, wliich, dear to 
him though it was, was at tliat time but a poor field for an artist. So, sending- 
for Miss Elizabeth Shewell, who had promised to become his wife, he decided to 
remain ; and after a very romantic escape from her brother throug-h the aid of 
Benjamin Franklin and some other friends of the young- couple, the lady em- 
barked for England, and was married to West soon after she landed. 

The study in Italy had done g-reat things for the artist's genius ; he had 
learned more about art than he had ever before dreamed of, and feeling that he 
had gifts for historical painting, he had resolved to aim at that hig-hest depart- 
ment of art — as it was then i-egarded. He had already been successful in a few 
such efforts in Italy, and in England his " Agrippina Landing with the Ashes of 
GermanicLis " met with g-reat success. It attracted the attention of King- Georg-e 
the Third, who sought the artist's acquaintance and became his friend and patron 
from that time forth for forty years. At the same time he held a high place in 
English society, and in 1792 he followed Sir Joshua Reynolds as president of the 
Royal Academ}^, but he declined the honor of being- made a knig-ht. Excepting- 
for one year he was elected to the head of the Academy as long as he lived. 

It has been said that Mr. West's extraordinary reputation — for he was the 



488 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

rival of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and after that noble i^entlenian's death he was 
rated as the best painter of his time in En<^-land — was largely due to the quickness 
and ease with which he woi-ked — so ditt'erent from Copley^ who was painfully 
slow — and to the coi-rectness of liis desig-ns according- to the standards of the 
Academy. The chief merits of his work were the composition and drawing ; the 
coloring was mostl}'^ of a reddish-brown tint, neither pleasing noi- like nature. 
While there was little that was peculiar to himself about his pictui-es, his works 
were remarkable for being almost all of equal merit : the flame of genius that 
burst forth in childhood burned with a broad and steady light till after he was 
past three score years and ten. Judges of art tell us that he never rested on other 
people's ideas, that his mind was as ambitious as it was gi\asping, and that all his; 
fancies were true to life. 

" The Death of Wolfe," one of his early pictures, formed an era in the history 
of British art. Against the advice of the great Sir Joshua and almost all other 
artists and critics, he painted this picture with the figures in the costumes of their 
own time— the custom before had always been to use the classical dress of the 
ancients. It was considered a very bold step and one that would probably hui-t 
the artist's reputation ; but it proved a great success, and Sir Joshua was one of 
the first to congratulate Mr. West on his experiment. 

Most of his works were on subjects taken from early English history and were 
made for the king. He planned out a grand series of paintings illustrating the 
progress of revealed religion for the chapel of Windsor Castle. Twenty-eight of 
these were finished ; but, in the first part of this century, the royal patron be- 
came insane and the Prince Regent canceled his order for the rest of the series. 
Ilr. West was then sixty-seven years old, and felt pretty downcast over the 
unfortunate turn affairs had taken. It was then that his countrymen in Philadel- 
phia showed him their appreciation by electing him, "as the most distinguished 
Gon of Pennsylvania in the ranks of art," an honorary member of their newly 
founded Academy of Art. 

After a little time he began a new scries of religious pieces, the first of which, 
" Christ Healing the Sick," was intended as a present to the Pennsylvania Hospi- 
tal. But this Avas bought l\y the British Institute for about fifteen thousand dol- 
lars, and a copy with some alterations was made and sent by the artist to Phila- 
delphia, where it was most cordially received and greatly admired. It may still 
be seen in the hospital. It is one of the few of his works to be found in America. 
Others are "Death on the Pale Horse" — wliich was the most remarkable woi'k 
of the second religious series— his "Christ Rejected," and his " Cupid," all of 
them in Philadelphia; his "Lear" is in the Boston AtheucT^um and two of his 
pictures illustrating scenes described in Homer's Iliad are in the Historical Rooms. 



John Trumbull. 489 

in New York City. Most of liis pieces, the famous "Bcattle of La Hag'ue," sev- 
eral other of his great battle scenes, and many other works, are in England, where 
they are preserved with great care as some of the hest history pictures owned by 
the nation. 

During a long career of almost unbroken prosperity, this industrious artist 
painted or sketched over four hundred pieces, many of which are of great size ; 
and when the venerable hand was finally stilled by death it was found. that he 
had more than two hundred drawings beside his pictures. Few men of his time 
were more highly respected than Mr. West. He was a thorough gentleman- 
honorable, kindly, and generous ; outside of his ability in art, he was a man of 
great force of character, and his name g-oes down in history as that of one of the 
ablest and greatest men our country has produced. He never forgot his love 
for America. He did a great deal to help and encourage the young artists who 
went from here to England. Many of them would go directly to him on arriving 
in London, and he always gave them his friendship, influence, and aid. Often he 
invited them to set up their easels in his studio, giving them all the advice and 
instruction he could. 

The loss of the king's patronage was soon made good by the honor and respect 
paid him by the people. He was esteemed above almost any artist of his time, 
both in England and America, and when death came to him at last his body was 
laid in St. Paul's Cathedral by the side of England's own great painters, John 
Opie and Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Benjamin West was born at Springfield, Pennsylvania, October 10, 1T3S. He 
died in Loudon, England, March 11, 1830. 

It has been said that perhaps the first painter who gave a national turn to fine 
arts in America was John Trumbiill. This handsome, courtly gentleman— the 
son of famous old Jonathan Trumbull, the Colonial Governor of Connecticut— was 
an able soldier in the Revolution ; he was also a scholarly man, and among the 
rare few of his time who had been favored with a classical education at Harvard 
University. 

No one thought of him as a painter until some time after he had won consider- 
able military fame. First he was known as a high-spirited, proud, and quick- 
tempered young fellow, who made drawings of the British works that won for him 
the post of aid to General Washington ; then he became a major and stormed the 
works of Burgoyne at Saratoga. His bravery and good soldiership brought him 
promotions, one after another, until he finally became a colonel. Although few 
people knew of him as an artist he always had a love and some talent for art; 
and long before he went into the war a copy of a great Vandyck, which was ma^ile- 



490 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

by Smybert — a Scotchman who came to this country and did a great deal for our 
3^oung- artists — had given him a passion for color and for the painting- of historical 
pictures ; so, when he became displeased with some act of Congress in i-eg-ard to 
his commission and he threw it up, his first thought was to go to England and 
study painting. Arriving in London, he sought out his famous countryman, and 
was soon asked to join the company of earnest young- American artists that 
g-athered around Benjamin West, who was then about forty-two years of age 
and already a man of very high standing- and a favorite with the king-. 

Trumbuirs gifts were for portraits and historical painting, and the powerful 
though somewhat faulty pictures he made of Washington, Hamilton, and othei^s, 
are among the most spirited works in the g-alleries of American art. But his 
masterpieces were historic scenes: "The Declaration of Independence," "The 
Siege of Gibraltar," and the noble canvases of the "Death of Montg-omery " 
and the " Battle of Bunker Hill." An American writer on art says that the last 
two "were not surpassed by any similar works in the last century, and thus far 
stand alone in American historical painting-. When John Trumbull painted those 
two pictures, he was inspired by the fires of g-enius for once in his life. His later 
historical works are so inferior in all respects as scarcely to seem to be by the same 
hand." 

After nine years of study and work, he returned to America, but went back 
twice after that, one time as secretary to John Jay, then United States Minister 
to England. Finally, after the close of the War of 1812, he settled in this 
country for g-ood, and painted the four large national pictures for the rotunda of 
the Capitol at Washington — the "Declaration of Independence," the "Surrender 
of Burgoyne," the " Surrender of Cornwallis," and the " Resig-nation of General 
Washington at Annapolis, December 23, 1783." These are chiefly valuable for 
their poi-traits. 

Trumbull, like all our artists of that time, was very anxious to see this countrj 
improve in art ; and it was with g-i-eat joy that in the latter part of his life he saw 
his hope beginning to be fulfilled. He lived to see artistic taste and ability g-row- 
ing' up among his fellow-countrymen, and also the awakening- of the first feeble 
attempts to teach painting, eng-raving, and sculpture in his native land. He was 
one of the founders of the Academy of Fine Arts — the mother of the National 
Academy of Design — and was its president as long as it lived, which was nine 
years. 

John Truiul)ull was born in Lebanon, Connecticut, June G, 1756. He died in 
New York City, November 10, 1843. 



Gilbert Stuart. 491 

The year 1756 was a doubly iiiipoi'tant one to American art, for it not only saw 
the birth of Trumbull, but of his still more gifted brother-artist, Gilbert Stuart, 
who has been ranked as " the g-reatest colorist and portrait-painter we have seen 




Gilbert Stuart. 



on tliis side of the Atlantic." He was born in a family of both Scotch and Welsh 
blood, and his father, out of loyalty to the young- grandson of James II., then 
claiming his right to the throne of England, added the name of Charles to that 
of Gilbert, which had already been given to his son ; but the artist himself 
dropped this in after years, though it is now often used as part of his name. 



492 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Like many of our early artistes, Stuart showed his talent and energy while he 
was but a boy ; he was onl}^ thii'teen years old when he began to draw likenesses- 
with black lead-pencil, and when he was eighteen he undertook serious study to 
prepare himself to becoine a painter. These early lessons were with a Scotch 
portrait-painter, named Cosmo Alexander, who was staying in Newport at that 
time. Stuart's interest in art and his decided gifts interested the Scotchman very 
much; he took him with him on a toui- through the Soutlun-n States and finally 
invited him to return with him to Scotland. But they had not been there long- 
before Alexander died, leaving his pupil in the care of Sir George Chalmers, who 
also died in a short time; and the poor Ameiican lad suddenly found himself en- 
tirely alone. Feeling unlike lighting- his way single-handed in a strange land, he 
got a place before the mast and woi-ked his passage home. Then he settled in 
his native town— Narrag-ansett, Rhode Island— and without any more lessons 
began a successful career as a portrait-painter. He moved to Boston and finally 
to New York, receiving many orders and becoming- quite celebrated. In the winter 
before the Revolution beg-an, he and his life-long friend. Dr. Benjamin Water- 
house, held the first " life class '" in America. Procuring- a muscular blacksmith 
for a model they practiced tog-ether and alone the drawing- of the human figure 
from life. ' 

The next autumn — wiien Stuart was twenty-two years old— he set sail for Lon- 
don, Avhere for two years he lived a wild Bohemian life, making- little progress hi his 
work and suffering- much from povert3\ He was a skillful musician as well as a 
painter, and once, when he was very poor, he was attracted in his desolate w'alk 
through the London streets by the sound of an organ in an opened church. Going- 
in he found that several persons were placing- before a committee to select an 
organist for the church. He asked for the privilege of playing- with the othei-s, 
and behig allowed to do so, he was selected for the place at a salary that covered 
all his w'ants. Meanwhile he painted also, having a few sitters througli the influ- 
ence of Dr. Waterhouse, who w^as then in London also, studying medicince. But 
even with these chances, he had onl.>^ scanty success till he met that ever-faithful 
friend of American artists, Benjamin West. He saw Stuart's gifts at once, oll'ered 
him valuable assistance, and for several j^ears made him a member of his own 
family. 

Stuart was a man of fine social qualities, but his life Avas always marred and 
his work much broken by his love of liquor and gay company. In West's studio, 
though, he studied industriously beside John Trumbull and several other talented 
young artists. After- a time — it was the year in which the Revolution closed — he 
opened a studio of his own in London, and made portraits of King George III., 
the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Northumberland, Sir Joshua Reynolds, John 



Gilbert Stnart. 493 

Kemble. the great actor ; Colonel Barre, and many other celebrated persons. He 
rose almost as hig-h as the g'l'eat Sir Josliua as a portrait-painter, and l)ecame 
the first man in that branch of art in Gi'eat Britain. He went to Dublin and to 
Paris to paint the portraits of some g-reat people there, Louis XVI, among- others 
in Paris ; and in 1793, leaving- Copley and West in the heig-ht of their fame in Lon- 
don, he returned to America — far more famous and a mucli better artist than when 
he left it. In Philadelphia, Washington, and the other chief cities of the land, he 
painted the portraits of the g-reatest men and loveliest women of the time. His 
studio was thronged with patrons and admirei-s and his genial society was wel- 
comed m the highest circles. His l)est and most famous work was in the portraits 
of Washmg-ton. He made three original painting-s and twenty-six copies of them. 
By all the best judg-es, these poi'ti-aits have always been looked upon as the best 
likenesses and the most faithful portraits of the character of our fiist commander 
and statesman that have ever been made. Among- them is the famous full-length 
painting- which represents the g-reat man "crowned with glory and honor, and in 
the majesty of a severe old ag-e." Others of his gr(;atest portraits wei-e of Jeffer- 
son and Monroe, while the famous picture of John Quincy Adams was left un- 
finished at his death and was completed by Thomas Sully, an Eng-lish painter 
who worked mostly in this country and wliose poi-traits have a rare; g-race and I'e- 
flnement. 

Stuart's works are widely scattered on both sides of the Atlantic. It has been 
said that as a painter of heads he holds the first place among- all American artists 
— some ci-itics except Copley — and that his flesh color-ing- rivals the best work of 
modern times. But, unlike Copley, he g-ave little care to anything- in the picture 
beside the head ; the dress and surrounding-s are often done in a very slovenly 
manner. 

It is also said of him that in power of drawing- and expression, and in ti-uth and 
purity of color, his portraits stand almost without rival in American and Euro- 
pean art. He had g-reat powers of showing- the character of the face he painted. 
Washing-ton Allston said that he seemed to dive into the thoug-hts of men, for 
they were made to live and speak on the surface ; adding- also that he was in the 
widest sense a philosopher in his art, thoroughly understanding- its principles in 
harmony of colors, of lines, and of light and shadow, showing- that exquisite sense 
of a whole which only a man of g-enius can realize and embody. "America has 
produced no painter who has been more unmistakably entitled to rank among' men 
of g-enius as disting-uished from those of talent." He followed no beaten track, it 
lias been said ; his eag-le eye pierced the secrets of nature according- to no pre- 
scribed rules. His last years, from 1805 until his death, were spent in Boston, 
■continually at work, except during- the times that everything- was neg-lected in in- 



494 One Huiuh'ed Famous Anien'cans. 

temperance ; for the bad habits of the gifted artist g-rew strong-er with his pros- 
perity, and, cling-ing- to him all his hfe, stood in the way of his ever i^eaching- the 
perfection in art for which his talents fitted him. 

Gilbert Stuart was born at Narrag-ansett, Rhode Island, in 175(). He died in 
Boston, Massachusetts, in July, 1828. 

The inlluences that Copl(\y and West, Ti'umbuU and Stuart brought into 
American art were Eng-lish ; the Italian influence came partly from John Van- 
derl^'u, who painted the beautiful pictures, "Ariadne " and " Marius Among- the 
Ruins of Carthag-e" and the portraits of De Witt Clinton and many of our g-reat 
statesmen of that day; but not from him alone, for the works of the celebrated 
Southerner, AVasliiiigtoii Allston, a g-reater artist than Vanderlyn and a 
man of his own time, were strongly influenced by the richness and purity of the 
old mastei's of Italy. 

This artist, who made such wonderful colors that he was called the American 
Titian, was the son of a Carolina planter. He could scarcely remember the time 
when he did not love art and had not shown a talent for it. It is told than when 
he was five and six 3'ears old his favorite play was making- little landscapes about 
the roots of an old tree in the country ; sometimes he would fashion a cottage out 
of tiny sticks, shaded by little trees, composed of small suckers gathered in the 
woods ; other days, his play would be to make the forked stalks of the wild ferns 
into little men and women, by winding' about them different colored yarns. He 
would pretend that they were people, and would present them with pictures made 
of the pomeg-ranate flower. 

When he was seven years old he was sent to Newport, Rhode Island. There 
painting- Avas his recreation fi-om school duties, as it was also from tlie colleg-e 
studies that came on later. Soon after g-raduating from Harvard — which was 
in the year 1800 and when he was twentj^-one — he returned to his native State and 
turntnl all his worldly g'oods into money to help him to learn to be a painter. 
This was no mean supply, for he had inherited a fortune ; and he Avas able at once 
to g-o to Em^ope, Avhere he spent many happy A^ears in patient labor and the faith- 
ful study of art and in the company of WordsAvorth, Southey, Cohnidge, and 
others of the loftiest men of the age. His nature has been described as pure, do- 
cile, unAvorldly, and full of reverence for God and Nature. Among all his noble 
companions he felt himself that the poet Coleridge, aa^io Avas his intimate friend 
for many years, had had the greatest influence upon his mind. In art he Avas in- 
spired most by the Italian masters, though his teachers were West and Reynolds, 
beside John Henry Fuseli, the follower of Michael Angelo. Vanderl3'n and Thor- 
Avaldsen, the great Danish sculptor, were his intimate friends. It has been said 



Washington Allston. 495 

that no private American ever made a better or more lasting- impression abroad 
than Washing-ton Allston. He had a fine, noble mind, with the hig-hest ideals, and 
he wrote exceeding-ly well both poetry and prose. But it is as a painter that he is 
I'eally famous, and especially as a colorist. 

After being- in Europe — mostly in Rome — for about five years, he came back 
to America foi^ a couple of j^ears, married the sister of William E. Channing-, and 
then went to Eng-land in 1811. He there entered upon his career as an artist, pro- 
ducing- a number of works of merit, most of which were upon subjects taken from 
sacred history. One of these was " Uriel and the Sun," and another, '' The Dead 
Man Revived by Touching- the Bones of Elijah," won the great two-hundred- 
g-uinea prize of the British Institution and was boug-ht by the Philadelphia Acad- 
emy. These and the other works that came from AUston's brush at this time 
"showed high imaginative power and a rare mastery of color, lig-ht, and shade." 

After about five j'ears of excellent work and ver^^ profitable study in England, 
Mr. Allston went to Paris, and in the next year — 1818 — he returned to America 
and settled himself to spend the i-est of his life in Cambridg-eport, Massachusetts. 
It was here that Horatio Greenough, the ambitious young- sculptor, fii-st met 
him, and found in him a g-reat master. Greenoug-h says : " Allston taught me 
first how to discriminate — how to think — how to feel. Before I knew him I felt 
strong-ly but blindl}^ as it were.; and if I should never pass mediocrity I should 
feel that it was because of my being- away from him." 

AUston's coming- back to America was an unfortunate thing- for his art ; thoug-h 
his countrymen appreciated him for the larg-e reputation he had made in Eng-land 
and admired his work, he found among- them scarcely any of that sort of in- 
tellig-ent appreciation, sympathy, and patronag-e which was necessary to such a 
sensitive nature as his, and which in Europe had been like warm sunshine to 
bring- out his g-ifts. While his mind teemed with g-reat and lofty ideals, his paint- 
ing- became listless and irreg-ular ; and during- the quarter century that he lived 
here he finished nothing- that could compare in importance with his earlier work. 
Altog-ether his works are not very many, but they " all bear the imprint of an orig-- 
inal and artistic mind. The best are founded on Scriptural subjects. He also 
painted landscapes and sea pieces of g-reat excellence, and in ideal portraits com- 
bined an almost unrivaled purity of flesh tints with depth and power of expres- 
sion." It has been said that it seems as if he mig-ht have made painting-s of more 
absolute power than he did, because he left man^^ crayon sketches and studies for 
pamting-s which are "full of fire, energy, and beauty, delicate fancy, and creative 
power." Sometimes, but rarely, we " g-et a g'limpse of the fervor and g-randeur of 
the imag-ination that burned in that brain, whose thoughts were greater than its 
capacity for expression." 



496 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

After his return to America till his death morit of his painting- time was put 
upon the one work, "Belshazzar's Feast," which he hoped to make his master- 
piece. He made tlie studies for it in London in 1815, and for ahnost thirty- years lie 
worked upon it from time to time ; but, suffering- often with attacks of bad health, 
and having an ideal that grew higher as his work went on, he had to leave it unfin- 
ished at last— a splendid specimen of his genius and a key to his life — which was 
greater in aspiration than in achievement. This painting is now m the Boston 
Athenaeum, and is one of the few of his works that are owned in this country, 
for most of his paintings — and there is a long list of important ones made before 
he left Europe for good — are owned in England, where his name is now and always 
lias been more famous than it is here. 

As a man, as a poet, and as an artist, he had a soul for the Good, the 
Beautiful, and the True ; he lacked courage and strength, but he had a 
noble mind. Some writer has said he accomplished so little because he thought 
so much. 

Washington Allston was born at Waccamaw, South Carolina, November 5, 
1779. He died at Cambridge, Massachusetts, July 9, 1843. 

The year 1828 is a marked one in the history of American art ; for in it the 
American Academy of Design was founded, and the second period in our art — the 
epoch of landscape-painting — began. Up to this time historical pieces and por- 
traits, in which our artists are said to have even gone ahead of their English 
brethren, held the field of our arts. But now, led chiefly by that honored father 
of American landscape-painters, Asher Brown Duraiid, a large number of 
our artists turned their attention to picturing scenery ; "and for forty years a 
long list of painters have made the public familiar with their native land and have 
thus at the same time roused a popular interest in art." 

Mr. Durand, a son of an old Huguenot family of New Jersey, ranks with 
Thomas Cole, an Englishman by birth, and Thomas Doughty, who left the leather 
trade to become a landscape-painter, as one— and in most respects the greatest 
one — of the three founders of American landscape-painting. It is not in that 
branch of art alone that he distinguished himself. It has been said that few 
artists have been so successful as he in following entirely distinct branches of art. 
' As an engraver— as his engraving of Vanderlyn's " Ariadne " shows — he has 
scarcely been equaled in this century; as both a designer and engraver, this 
country has produced no artist who could outshine the genius shown in his " Musi- 
dora ; " in portrait-painting he took his place with some of the best ; and in land- 
scape work — which he took up in his thirty-eighth year — he " at once became not 
only a pioneer, but a master." For massive handling, fresh and vig-orous treat- 



Asher Brouni Durand. 



497 



ment of trees see — says one of our critics — a model in his " Edge of the Forest" 
in the Corcoran Gallery at Washing-ton. 

" The art of Durand is wholly national ; few of our painters owe less to foreign 
inspiration. Here he learned the various arts that gave him a triple fame ; here 
he found the subjects for his compositions ; and his name is destined to endure as 
long- as American art shall endure.'' 

The storj' of Mr. Durand 's life shows that he had more than common trials 
when he was striving to become an artist, and that, in spite of those trials, he did 




Asher Brown Durand. 



an uncommon amoimt of good work. His first etforts were in the shop of his 
father, \\\\o was a watchmaker and silversmith ; there he learned the use of fine 
artistic tools, and became acquainted with the graver. He can scarcely remem- 
ber the time when he did not intend to be an engraver. When he was only ten years 
old he made an engraving of Washington's head on a copper cent, which he ham- 
mered out to about the size of a silver dollar. Educating himself for his art he 
kept on copying pictures on metal plates till he was old enough to be apprenticed 
to a letter engraver of Newark, New Jersey, with whom he afterward came to New 
York, and finally joined in partnership, having become meanwhile a better work- 
man than his master. The engraver's art was but little practiced and little cared 
for during the first quarter of this century, and the ambitious young artist had a 



498 One Hundred Famous Aniericcms. 

hard time to make a name or much money. But he usually had plenty of work, 
of about all kinds, from making- V)usiness-cards to illustrating- Shakespeare. 
Among" the best work that he did in these early days was the well-known por- 
trait of Noah Webster — seen in his " Unabi-idged Dictionary" — and the eng-rav- 
ing of one of John Trumbull's masterpieces, " The Declaration of Independence.*' 
upon wliich Durand spent three years of labor. Following this were portraits of 
the great surgeon of that day, Dr. Valentine Mott, the celebrated Philadelphia 
physician, Dr. Philip S. Phj^sic, John Quincy Adams, the statesman, and Lindlex' 
Murray, the scholarly author of tli(> '•• English Grammars " and " Spellers.'' 

Well as he did this sort of work, his aim was toward a liig-her and more i(l<';il 
class of art; he wanted to stud}" and to portray the human figure, and, not being- 
able to get any living model or to find any worthy picture to copy, he desig-n<'d foi- 
himself and engraved the famous and the beautiful " Musidora," which was so lit- 
tle valued at the time that Mr. Durand said himself it never paid him the price 
even of the copper. It was a new departure, and shows what genius and what 
courage the artist possessed. This was finished in 1825, and after two years of 
work, chiefly upon eng-ravings of the g-reat actoi's of the day, he began bank-note 
engraving, in which he made a high reputation. '' His Avonderful accuracy, the 
cleanness of his touch, were even more effective on the harder steel than on the 
softer copper." In this work it is necessary to make a delicate picture in the 
smallest possible space, and it has been said that there has never been an artist 
either at home or abroad who has been Mr. Durand's equal in this respect. But he 
himself looked back upon the five years he spent in this service as \'ears of drudge- 
ry, for his taste was to a freer kind of art. It was relief to him to change again 
to portrait eng-raving, and to w^ork for the popular old '' Annuals," which are 
forgotten now excepting for the gems of American art which they contain. It is 
worth while to draw them from their hiding--places on the top shelves of the great 
libraries to see the elegance and minuteness of their pictures — a beauty that is 
seen in no modern American engraving. 

Beside fancy portraits and lig-ure-i)ieces Mr. Durand began at this time to 
make his fli-st landscape engi-avings — an eltort that was coldly received by the 
public, because; they wcu-e on American subjects — views about home, which were 
not deemed worthy the trouble of an artist. But his porti'aits— of Miss Sedg- 
wick, the writer; John Trvmibull, Stuart's " Washington," John Marshall, De 
Witt Clinton, and many others that came from his industrious graver — were all 
well received. In 1835, after years of patient work and skill, his eng-raving of 
Vanderlyn's beautiful " Ariadne " was published : it was not appreciated at first 
and the artist received nothing- foi- it, but gradually its merit became understood, 
and it now ranks as " the highest achievement of the American burin." 



Asfier Brown Durand. 499 

Excepting- for his woi'k on the Bryant portrait, eng-raved by Mr. Jones and 
tonched up into life and character by Mr. Durand in 1860, after " Ariadne " was 
finished he laid aside the g-raver forever, having- spent his boyhood and most of 
his manhood with it in liand, and having- made by it a lasting- place among- the 
first artists of America, antl of his ag-e. Now, in the prime of life, he put his 
labors into another branch of art, for he felt that eng-raving- alone did not give vent 
to his inspiration ; he must express himself in colors. The secrets of the painter had 
come to him as he had been teaching- himself all the rudiments of eng-raving- ; and 
in the year 1836 — when he was forty ,years old — he took up the brush, and dur- 
ing- the next forty j^ears made it the chief tool of his art. He visited Europe not 
long- after, but soon returned to spend the rest of his working- years in devotion 
to his newly-cliosen branch of his g-rand pi'ofession. He painted with success 
portraits — notably one of his fi-iend John Trumbull — and historical subjects, of 
which the "' Capture of Ma.joi- Andre " is one of the best known, and still holds 
its place as the true picture of that famous scene in our history. But his g-ieater 
achievements were in landscape-paintings — especially scenes among- the mountains, 
along rivers, and othei' portions of the then almost entirely unportraj^ed beauties 
of the United States. Little w^ork of this kind had lieen done until he took it u[), 
and b}^ his success he opened a new era in American art. 

Mr. Durand had not worked in colors long- before he ranked among- the g-reat- 
est painters of his day — and the middle of this century saw a g-reat many more 
workers and critics in art than seemed possible in the time of Copley, West, and 
Allston. When Professor Morse, the teleg-raph inventor, resig-ned from the 
president's chair in the National Academy of Desig-n, Mr. Durand was elected to 
fill the place, which he did for seventeen years, resig-ning- in the year that the 
Civil War broke out. 

When he was seventy years old, he left New York, where he lived for a 
long- time, and built a g-reat, roomy house upon the site of the place where he was 
born, and there the remainder of his beautiful, blameless life was spent.- On ac- 
count of ag-e and feeble health he laid aside his brush forever, after finishing- a 
larg-e landscape when he was eig-hty- three years old, but though his memory 
almost entirely left him, his love of art and enjo^nnent in pictures remained to the 
end, which came but a few weeks ag-o. The g-i-eat, roomy studio at the top of 
the house, and all the rooms below were literall^• lined with pictures and studies, but 
among- them all there was nothing- so beautiful as the aged artist's venerable fig-ure 
and noble head, crowned with the snowy locks of ninety years, and set with the mild 
blue eyes that lig-hted up Avith a wonderful charm the handsome, expressive features. 

Asher B. Durand was born Aug-ust 21, 1796, in Jefferson Villag-e — now Maple- 
wood, South Orang-e — New Jersey, where he died September 17, 1886. 



500 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Probably no American has had greater influence upon the art of this country 
than AVilliain Morris Hunt, who died only a few years ag-o, while yet in the 
prime of life. His best work was as a teacher, but he was also eminent as a 
painter of portraits, of history, and of what are called genre pictures. This is a 
word borrowed from the French, who use it as we use " kind " and " sort." In 
art it is applied to compositions or studies of the human Jigure which are not por- 
traits or historical scenes, but pictures of certain types of people. They may be 
in singie fig"ures or in groups, and are often composed in scenes that tell some 
story fi'om life. Cr(^/<r^^-paintings are made of any size that the artist may choose, 
while portraits and historical pieces are life-size or larg-er. 

Mr. Hunt laid the foundation of his splendid training- in art by practicing 
modeling- for live years. He modeled when he was a student at Harvard, and 
afterwai-d, when foi'ced by ill-health to leave colleg-e without graduating, he went 
to the famous Academy at Diisseldorf, Prussia— where many American artists 
have studied — and there worked at sculpture as well as at painting- for almost a 
year. This Avas when he was twenty-one years old ; and even then he began to 
see that the noblest held of art lay beyond the set rules and old methods that 
were insisted upon by the Diisseldorf masters ; so, before very long, he left that 
academy for Paris.' There, in the leading art center of the world, he found some- 
thing of the freedom that he wanted, and placed himself under the great master 
of history- and (/e?i?-e-painting, Thomas Contour. It has been said that the cele- 
brated Frenchman probabl\- never had a pupil who did such justice to his 
methods as did William Himt. The two pictures that first made his fame— 
the '• Prodigal Son "* and the " Fortune Teller'" — are said to be very much like 
Contour's best work, although full of original hnpulse, and pathos, and beauty. 

While studying with Coutoiu-, Mr. Hunt saw the work, and Avas one of the 
lirst to discover the gi-eat genius of Jean Frangois Millet, who, close to the great- 
est art city in the world, had toiled hard and patiently for many years without 
any recognition. Hiuit saw in him a great, original master artist, who obeyed 
the voice of his own genius, scorning- to turn aside into tlie beaten track or to fol- 
low the rules of any school, though all the critics and artists of Paris should pass 
him by. Soon after Hunt came to Icnow this great, calm, faithful artist, he made 
arrangements to become his pupil. This was the begimiing of a vast change for 
the now much-admired Millet, and it was a step of large imi)ortance to Mr. Hunt, 
and through him to American art. It has been said that through Mr. Hunt the 
great first principles of art began to be mastered and brought to America with 
the most advanced theories, trutlis, or discoveries in the technical part of the sul)- 
ject. as they had never been before. What he leai-ned in Paris was the means of 
an improvement in the ai-t of his own country never before dreamed of. He was 



William Morris Hunt. 501 

a man of great force of character more than of original genius ; and he had the 
true ideas about art. He saw what it should be and what its followers should 
aim at, what can be done by it and what cannot. It was in all this that his years 
of study in Europe gave him great knowledg-e and judgment — more, probal)]y,' 
than 2ii\y other Amei'ican has ever had ; and when he came back to the United 
States in 1855, he placed these rich stores within the reach of his brother and sis- 
ter ai'tists. He first made his home at Newport, Rhode Island, and then, for the 
rest of his life, in Boston, inti'oducing new methods and large ideas to Amei'ican 
artists and art lovers, and forming- among them a circle of powerful influence. 

There soon gathered round him a school that took in and further spread his 
opinions, and, in some cases, proflted by his st3'le and influence ; he also was the 
means of sending- a larg-e number of art students to Paris and also to Munich, 
where they learned bolder, freer methods than those of tlie old school of painters, 
and enlarged their own ideas. 

Both in Paris and in this country Mr. Hiuit painted manj^ pictures which have 
great merit and beauty ; but " it cannot be said that he has added greatly to the 
sum of the world's art by anything- strikingly original." The most noted of his 
portraits is that of Judge Shaw, in which — critics say — he does not show the 
influence of either of his masters. Treating- it wholly in his own way, he has pre- 
sented " a figure as classic in its dress-suit as if it wore a toga. It is the por- 
trait of a stout, middle-aged man with all the experience of life in his face." 
(Hunt's aim was to picture the character more than the outward likeness.) 
Strong and impressive in painting- men, he was fine, delicate, and often dreani}^ 
with women — so admirable in all, that even those who esteem portrait-painting- 
as one of the greatest branches of art, have not hesitated to give Mr. Hunt iirst 
place in it. As a colorist. though, Washington Allston and John La Farge i-ank 
above him. Among- tlie most famous of his genre work are the "• Marguei-ites " 
— two pictures painted on the same outline, one with Contour — boldly and brill- 
iantly done — and the other with Millet — gentle, tender, and seeming- to be 
"bathed in a sweet, mellow glow." The study is a woman, with the back 
toward you, standing in a field of wheat, and plucking- the leaves from a daisy 
slie holds. He also made a very successful series representing- picturesque types 
of city life in Paris, which were lithographed and published by the artist a little 
more than twenty-five years ago. The "Girl with the Cat" is looked upon as 
another exquisite piece of di\awing- and coloi'. showing- very plainly the influence 
of Millet, as does also the " Violet Girl.'" Probably the " Prodig-al Son " is the 
g-reatest history-picture of this artist. Its figures are wonderful character-por- 
traits. 

The last work that Mr. Hunt did was to paint th<;> two large pictures called the 



aO'i One Hiuidfed Famous Americans. 

" Flig'ht of Ni'^lit '" on the walls of the Assembly chaiubci-, in the State House at 
Albany, New York. These were made from one of tlie first designs he evei- mod- 
eled, and are reckoned the finest of all his works. 

" As a draughtsman no one is l)etttM-, and this, along with his keen feeling, gives 
him a great power as a portrait-jiainter. He seems to know the whole i-ange of 
^luman emotions. The subtlety and tenderness in some of his women's faces, 
the innocence and pathos of his children, the complexity of the man of the world, 
the power and impulse of genius — all these we note as we turn from portrait to 
portrait. He seems to haA'e looked at his sitter with no prejudice and painted 
liim as he really was.'' 

The greater' number of liis pictures are on exhibition in Boston ; a few ai"e 
scattered in dillerent collections throughout the country, but many of them were 
burned in the great Boston tire of 1872, which swept away his studio with so much 
other valuable property in its headlong tide of destruction. 

William Mori'is Hunt was born at Brattleboro', Vermont, March 31, 1824. He 
died at the Isles of Shoals, New Hampshire, September 8, 1879. 

Among the other prominent American artists of recent times Eastman 
Johnson is tliought to stand foremost in American g'e/ire-painting. He " was 
among the first to recognize in American life the picturesque and characteristic 
traits wliich our artists wei-e once fain to see abroad. Thanks to his admirable 
example, American ^e/tre-painting now rivals that of any European nation in va- 
riety and excellence, and gives promise of greater triumphs in the future." (Mr. 
Johnson was born in Maine in 1824, and now lives in New York City.) "William 
H. Beard — famous for his excellent and often witty bear pictures — ranks as the 
best painter of animals in America, and one who is unexcelled abroad. Beside these 
there are the names of John F. Kensett— who died in 1872— Sanford R. Gifford, and 
R. Swain Gilford among the most original landscape-painters, while along with 
them are many others distinguished in both landscapes and marine pieces. Among 
historical painters of recent times the most vigorous work and the greatest num- 
T)er of pictures have come from Emanuel Lentz, whose " Washington Crossing 
the Delaware " is w<^ll known from engravings. 

Many of our artists have done their best work and made themselves a lasting 
name b^^ illustrating papers, magazines, and books. Among these the most cele- 
l)rated are Felix O. C. Darley, of Philadelpliia, who was on(» of th(! first artists 
to draw for engravers, and who will ever be famous for his illustrations for the 
works of Irving, Cooper, Longfellow, and others ; Thomas Nast, whose cartoon 
sketches for Harper's Weekhj have been one of the most powerful political influ- 
ences of the age ; C. S. Reinhart, who, for many years, has been making some of 



Alexander Anderson. 



503 



the best sketches of people, for a great variety of different stories, articles, and 
poems that have appeared in our books and magazines ; and Edwin A. Abbey, 
who is much younger than Reinhart, and shows a greater ability than almost any 
illustrator of his time. He is also a very successful gren/'e-painter in water-colors. 
Beside these there are W. H. Gibson, famous for out-of-door sketches ; Georg-e 
H. Boughton, Frederick Diehlman, Howard Pyle, and many others. 




Alexander Anderson. 

(From a portrait eiii,'^ravecl by himself in liis eighty-fourth year.) 

Along- with these artists and of equal importance to this branch of art are 
our wood-engravers, of whom there are now many. William Linton, Thomas 
Cole, Davis, Juengling, being only a few of the most prominent ones. The leader 
in these ranks, which have now grown very large, was Alexander Anderson. 
He was the first — and perhaps the g-reatest— wood-engraver of America. From 
/before the beginning- of this century', and almost till it turned upon its last quarter, 
the mysterious little monogram, "A. A." kept steadily appearing in its quiet 
corner on many hundreds of pictures, especially the illustrations in school-books. 

Alexander Anderson came into the family of the '' rebel printer " of a repub- 
lican paper in New York while the smoke of Lexington and Concord was still in 
the air, and was taken awa;y to Connecticut by his father when he had to flee for 
his life with his printing- establishment, upon the taking of New York by the 
British. After the trouble was over, though, the family returned and Alexander 
Anderson's birthplace was his life-long home. 



504 Owe Hundred Famous Americans. 

He was an engraver born ; he loved art as soon as he knew enough to love 
anything"; and he began to use the g-raver when he was only twelve years old. 
Being too timid to ask questions, he used to peep into the shop-windows of jew- 
elers and silversmiths to see how they lettered spoons and ornamented other gold 
and silver articles ; then g-etting: one of the big copper cents, that were common in 
those days, rolled into a thin sheet, he would work on it as he saw the eng-ravers 
work throug-h the windows. In this way he taug-ht himself the art of the burin. 
Another matter that he was deeply interested in, in these school-ho}^ tlays, was 
medicine ; and a g-ood deal of his drawing- and engraving was done in copying- the 
anatomical fig-ures from medical books. His father — an able, sensible Scotchman 
— did not think very highly of Alexander's fondness for art, but he was pleased 
that he liked medicine, and encouraged him to study to become a physician ; and 
so he did, going- to Columbia College, and receiving- his degree of M.D. when he was 
twenty-one 3^ears old. It is said that the theories and opinions upon the ca\ises 
and cure of chronic mania Avhich were contained in the essay that he read when he 
received his degree have long- been established facts in medical science. He began 
to practice medicine at once ; but he had not g-iven up drawing- and engraving 
meanwliile. By the time he was seventeen years old he had done considerable 
work for newspapers and had made so much progress ui art that he was employed 
by a New York bookseller to copy some illustrations made by the celebrated Eng- 
lish artist, Thomas Bewick, the father of modern wood-engraviug. Up to this 
time Anderson's engraving- for new^spapers had been on tyi)e-meta], and he liad 
no idea that wood Avas used for the purpose. When about lialf the Bewick illus- 
trations were finished, he was told that the Englishman's pictures were engraved 
on boxwood. Then Anderson's shoukl be. He procured some wood at once, in- 
vented proper tools, and, " to his great joy, he found this material more agreeable 
to work upon and more easily managed than type-metal." 

This was a wonderful discovery, and the happy artist devoted a great deal of 
his time after that to practicing his new-found art. " At the beginning- of his 
practice in medicine he drew and engraved on wood in an admirable manner a full- 
length human skeleton from 'Albinus's Anatom3^,' wiiich he enlarged to the lengl li 
of three feet," and which is said to be the largest fine and careful eugraving on 
wood ever attempted — " one which has never been excelled in accuracy of draw- 
ing and characteristic execution." 

When he was twenty-three, Dr. Anderson met with a sad loss in the death of 
all his faniih\ Home and hapi)iness Avere broken up, and leaving- New York he 
went to the West Indies, making a long visit with his uncle. But finally he re- 
solved to come back to New York, and on liis return he gave up medicine for en- 
graving, which was his life-work for almost three score and ten years. 



Horatio Greenough. 



505 



Then he set up for himself and did 



rvf<^ 



He studied with an eminent Scotch artist in New York and became a successful 
eni^raver on copper, makinii- several pictures which g'ave him a lasting- fame ; 
notably the frontispiece in Robertson's " History of Charles V.," and a portrait of 
Francis I,, which were published in 1800. 
work on both wood and copper until the 
year 1820. He illustrated one of the ear- 
lier editions of the famous Webster spell- 
ing'-book, now published by the Apple- 
tons; and years after, Avhen Dr. Ander- 
son was the most venerable, as well as 
the most famous member of his profes- 
sion, he engraved a new set of pictures 
for a more fully illustrated edition of the 
Speller, which was still as popular as 
ever. The pictures were made by one of 
his own early pupils — who at this time 
was a man seventy years old. 

During" his long and busy life, Dr. 
Anderson engraved many thousand subjects. After 1812 he worked only on 
wood, and his skill with that became as great as with liis metal plates. He 
illustrated many standard works, and was for a number of years employed upon 
the publications of the American Tract Society, only retiring- from that house in 
18G5, wlien he was ninety years old. He kept his skill and mental powers almost 
unimpaired during- all that time; and, until within the last twenty years, it was 
not uncommon in and about New York to see his venerable, thick-set figui-e — 
which was never quite up to medium height — and to see his benevolent, kindly 
face among the younger men and women on the crowded streets. He was " ex- 
tremely regular and temperate in his habits, g-enial in thought and conversation, 
and uncommonly modest and retiring." 

Alexander Anderson was born in New York City, April 21, 1775. He died in 
Jersey City, New Jersey, January 17, 1870. 




THE FIRST WOOD-CUT MADE IN AMERICA. 



"The list of American sculptors embraces a number of eminent names, begin- 
ning with that of Horatio Greenough, from whose hand came the first mar- 
ble group made by an American." He was a Boston man. who was fortunate in 
having- a good education to start with in life, and the helpful interest of Washing-- 
ton Allston to assist him in art. Leaving- college before he g-raduated, he went to 
Rome when he was about twenty years old, and there devoted himself to his 
chosen branch of art. He returned to America several times and filled a good 



506 One Hundred Faitious Americans. 

many orders here, but for the most part his hfe was spent in earnest study and 
liard work in Florence, Italy. As the first of American sculptors he won a great 
name, but much of his woi'k has not the merit to make his fame lasting. He was 
certainl^^ a man of intellect and culture, with a strong" love for art; but as a 
sculptor his natural g-ifts were not so g-reat as those of others who soon came 
after liim. He designed the Bunker Hill Monument, hy which — it has been said 
—he will be known the long-est. He made a number of good busts of some of the 
leading men of his time — James Fenimore Cooper, John Quinc}^ Adams, Jolm 
Marshall and others — and soon after settling- in Florence he made the " Chanting 
Cheruhs " for Cooper, who was one of the first of his patrons. The most impor- 
tant order thoug"h, that he carried hack with him after his first visit home, was the 
much-criticised statue of Washington which faces the main doorway of the Capi- 
tol at Washington from across the broad front carriag-eway. The bas-reliefs on 
the thi-one-like chair are really fine, and perhaps the half-nude Roman attire 
would seem less ridiculous upon our great hero and statesman if the statue had 
heen placed where Greenough expected it to he — under the dome of the Rotunda. 
His g'roup called •' The Rescue," on the portico of the Capitol, is liked scarcely 
better than the Washing-ton — so much nobler and more fitting- a thing- seems 
demanded in that prominent place. Mr. Greenough came here from Florence to 
oversee the raising- of this piece to its place, but there was much delay ahout the 
work of moving it, and before it could be set up, he died of brain-fever. He was 
in the midst of his work when this sad stroke came upon him ; he had just heg-un 
a course of art lectui'es in Boston and left the sketches for twenty j^ears of 
work planned out ahead of him. He wrote several essays on matters of art, and 
was really greater as a critic of art than as an artist ; but his name will always 
he i-ememhered and honored as the father of American sculpture. 

Horatio Greenough was born in Boston, September 6, 1805. He died at Soni- 
erville, Massachusetts, December 18, 1852, 

The year which saw the birth of Horatio Greenough saw also that of his 
g-reater brother-sculptor, Hiriiiii Powers. He, too, was a native of New Eng- 
land — from the Green Mountain State — but life presented a rougher road to him 
than to Greenough. While the Boston lad was prejDaring for and attending- col- 
lege, and studying- undei- Allston, Powers was fighting his way in an emig-rant's 
settlement out in Ohio. He passed throug-h a poor district school, a clerkship in 
a store, an apprenticeship in a clockmaker's shop ; and, after learning- to model 
figures in clay from a German sculptor he met, he became the superintendent of 
the wax-work department of the Western Museum at Cincinnati. After seven 
years in this position — when he was thirty yeai-s of ag-e — he went to Washington 



Hi7'am Powers-. 



507 



and there built up quite a business at modeling- in plaster the busts of the noted 
people in the city. His skill had already attracted a good deal of attention and 
interest, and won for him several friends. One of these was Mr. Nicholas Long- 
worth, a Cincinnati millionaire, who believed that the talented modeler had 




Hiram Powers. 

unusual gifts for art, and sent him to Italy to study. Powers went to Florence 
where Greenough was already settled, and from that time the beautiful art city on 
the Arno was his home as long- as he lived. He studied and worked very eai-- 
nestly, and made so much of his talents and all the chances that Florence affords 
that before long- he l)ecame known as a great artist. 

All his work has a peculiar delicacy and refinement that makes it distinct from 
all other American sculpture. The statues of "Eve," the " Greek Slave," the 
"Fisher Boy," ''11 Penseroso," -'California," "America," and the "Indian 



508 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

Maiden ; " ' those of Washing-ton, Webster, and Calhoun are all considered fine pieces 
of art work, and so are the busts of '' Proserpine," Adams, Jackson, Webster, 
Calhoun, Chief Justice Marshall, Edward Everett and Martin Van Bui^en. The 
two most important ideal pieces are '' The Last of His Tribe," and a "Head of 
Jesus Christ." Among- these are some of the most famous pieces of modern 
statuary. This artist has left a g-reat legacy to his profession in his invention of 
a process of motleling- in plaster, which does away with the need of taking- a 
clay model, and so makes the labor of the sculptor much easier and quicker. 

Hiram Powers was born near W^oodstock, Vermont, in July 29, 1805. He died 
at Florence, Italy, June 27, 1873. 

Thomas Crawford, of New York, thoug-h younger than Powers by almost 
ten years and outlived by him sixteen years, has a name among the foremost 
sculptors of this century that even the celebrated author of the " Greek Slave " 
does not outshine. His st^^le is massive and imposing, in the strongest contrast to 
the fine, delicate work of Powers ; but there is always a perfect harmony about 
his fig'ures that keeps them from ever seeming- to show any exaggerations. It 
has been said that Crawford held among our sculptors a place like that of Allston 
among- our early pointers. " There is a classic majesty about his works, a sus- 
tained grandeur that is warmed by a sjanpathetic nature. He had what most of 
our sculptors have lacked — g-enius. Were he alive to-day, when a new ordei' of 
sculpture is bursting- its bonds, he would have few peers." 

His real art-education beg-an about fifty years ago when he was a lad of twenty, 
who, lia\ing made his way to Italy and presented a letter of introduction to Thor- 
waldsen, was invited to work in the studio of the great Danish sculptor. He 
was a courageous Avorker and dearly loved his art. At home in New York, dur- 
ing- all his boyhood, he had spent a great deal of time in making drawings and 
wood-carving» ; then at the age of eighteen he had found a place with some sculp- 
tors of monuments, and in the two N'ears that he had stayed with these men he 
had not only made several designs for monuments, but had worked upon some 
portrait busts of Chief Justice Marshall and other men of the time. But in Italy, 
his aim was for the truest, highest art he could attain. It was soon plain that he 
had g-enius as Avell as great ability, but he felt that he could only succeed by inces- 
sant labor ; so he worked cheerfully and bravelj^ year after year, though for a 
long time the orders that he received for portrait busts and copies of statuary in 
marble scarcely brought him money enough to pay for liis living and buy his 
materials. But one day, in about the year 1840, the eye of an American sight- 
seer in Rome fell upon one of his gr-oups and from that moment the patient, con- 
scientious work of Thomas Crawford, which for so long had been going on un- 



Thomas Orawfor'd. 509 

known to the world, beg-an to reap its reward. The American tourist was young- 
(Charles Sumner, the man of taste and culture, the polished g-entleman of Boston's 
l)est society ; the g-roup was Crawford's " Orpheus," representing- the young- lyre- 
player entering- Hades in search of his wife, Eurydice. Mr. Sumner was so im- 
l)ressed by the beauty and the artistic g-enius shown in this piece that he resolved 
at once that America should hear of the gifted man who had produced it as soon 
as he returned. He carried out his purpose, raised a subscription among- his 
friends and ordered of Mr. Crawford a copy of the " Orpheus " in marble— which 
now stands in the Boston Athenaeum. When this was finished it w^as sent to 
Boston with several other pieces of the sculptor's work and placed on exhibition. 
Mr. Crawford, his g-enius, and his beautiful statuary suddenly became the topic of 
the time, and his countrymen were unstinting towai'd him in their praise, theii- ap- 
preciation, and their handsome support. This exhibition was an event that formed 
an epoch in his life. 

After this he was able to g-ive more time to original work : before, he had had to 
do a g-reat deal of copying- to earn money enough to pay his way. He fitted up a 
large studio in Rome ; and, his industry seeming to grow with his good fortune, 
during the years that followed, he did the greatest amount of the most of the 
purely classic work of his life. Many of his pieces were subjects taken from 
poetry and mythology, but the most famous probably was a series of bas-reliefs 
from the Scriptures. 

In 1844 — when he was thirty years old — he came back to America for a time, 
married, and left behind him the famous bust of Josiah Quincy, Jr., >vhich he 
modeled for the library of Harvard University, but which is now in the Athe- 
naeum. When he returned to Europe it was with many orders for new works ; so 
that when he again came here, five years later, it was with greater fame than 
ever. It was while on this visit that he happened to see in a newspaper the pro- 
posals for the monument to Washington, to be set up by the State of Virginia. 
Preparing a model, he sent it to the committee, who unanimously accepted it as the 
best offered. 

One other visit he made to America in 185G. leaving his family here, and re- 
turning alone to Rome. The rest of his life— irntil in his last years he became 
blind and a great sufferer from a tumor on the brain— he was a most faithful and 
industrious worker. He turned out a vast quantity of pieces, all of which bear 
tlie stamp of genius, of original invention and fresh thought, though the manner 
in which some of them are done— what artists call the " treatment "—is often criti- 
cised. 

When, in the prime of his busy life, Mr. Crawford's illness came on, he had 
made over sixty finished pieces— many of them colossal in size— while fifty 



510 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

sketches in plastei- and designs of \aiious i^inds stood waiting for the development 
of his ideas or the tonch of his skilful hand. Beside the *' Orpheus'* — generally 
said to be his best work — and the bust of Quincy, among- his most noted pieces are 
the statue of Washington on horseback, at Richmond, Virginia, and the colossal 
statue of Beethoven in the Boston Music Hall. In Central Park, New York, there 
are eighty-seven casts of his j)ieces, and many other larg-e cities in the country pos- 
sess both originals and copies of his best woi-ks. The Capitol at Washington is the 
richest of all places in Crawford's sculptui-e. In the Hall ai-e statues of Channing 
and Henry Clay, on the doors ai'e his bronze groups in relief, picturing the Ameri- 
can Revolution — believed by some people to be his masterpieces — on the pediment 
are his fig-ures representing- the progress of civilization in America, while above 
them all, on the summit of the dome, where her stateliness and grace is quite out 
of sight, stands his colossal mai-ble tigui-e of armed Liberty. 

The last years of Mr. Ci-awfoi-d's life were very sad ; they were clouded by ill- 
ness and g-reat suffering-. In vain he went from one place to another, consulting 
the best physicians in the world, dying at last in London away from his Roman 
home antl friends, and away from his family and his native land. 

Thomas Crawford was born in New York City, March 23, 181-1. He died in 
London, England, October 10, 1857. 

It has been said that no living- American artist holds a more prominent posi- 
tion in the world or shows more ability to do many things well than the sculptor, 
musician, and author, William Wetniore Story. He is the son of grand old 
Judge Story, and possesses a goodly fortune and a fine education. After gradu- 
ating from Harvard College in 1836— when he was twenty-one years old— he 
studied hnv, was admitted to the bar in Boston, and h\ writing- several law-books 
became quite noted in that profession during the next ten years. 

Before he was thirty years old he had wi'itten and published two volumes of 
poems— some of which are truly beautiful— and had also told the story of his 
noble fathei-'s life in two vohmies. Th.> next thing he did was to go to Rome and 
devote himself to sculpture for which he has had great love and a marked talent 
ever since he was a boy. Giving himself very earnestly to this he soon won 
jnuch success, and it has even been said by a leading London" journal that, aftx^r 
tlie celebrated Welshman, John (4ibson, he is the gr-(^at(^st sculptor of the English- 
speaking race. 

He has made many fine portrait pieces, among which are a sitting statue of 
his father, wliich is now in the chapel of Mount Auburn Cemetery ; statues of 
George Peabody, Josiah Quincy, and Edward Everett; and b\ists of James Rus- 
sell Lowell and Theodore Pai'ker. He has also done several ideal works of great 



Harriet Hosmer. 511 

merit, among- which are the " Sheplierd Boy," ''Little Red Riding- Hood,"' 
" Sappho," "Jerusalem "—said to be the noblest of all — a '' Sibyl," and the three 
famous pieces in the Metropolitan Museum, of New York, "Medea," " Semi- 
ramis," and " Cleopatra." His most perfect work is said to he " Salome." The 
opinion of Mr. Story in America differs from that of the London journal. One of 
our critics says that the very best of his works show more the talent of a rich 
and hig-hly cultivated mind than the pure flame of g-enius. They are beautiful : 
we admire them a great deal ; but they do not make us enthusiastic. 

W. W. Story was born at Salem, Massachusetts, February 12, 1819. He is^ 
now living in Florence, Italy. 

Among several American women whose genius or skill has won for them a 
noted place among sculptors, the greatest is Harriet Hosmer, a native of 
Massachusetts, who has lived in Italy ever since she took up the profession of 
art. Her fame ranks next to that of Mr. Story, and her work is all strongly 
marked by her own individual thouglit and imagination. Her taste for sculpture 
showed itself when she Avas a livel\^, romping girl, riding horseback, hunting, 
rowing, skating, swimming — and enjoying all sorts of out-of-door sports, in 
which few could excel her. Her art work began with modeling- in clay : and 
when she decided to become a sculptor, her father — who was a physician — taught 
her to study all the parts of the human body, and afterward sent her to the medi- 
cal college at St. Louis. She was only twent^^ years old when she returned home 
from this course ; but even then she did such an excellent piece of modeling in her 
flrst work — " Hesper " — that it was decided to send her to Rome, where her gifts 
could be made the most of ; and there, in the grand old art city, she first studied 
under Gibson, and has since lived and worked for over twent3^ years. 

The most famous of her pieces are " Medusa," the much-admired statue of 
that famous woman of Florentine history, " Beatrice Cenci," which is now in the 
Mercantile Library of St. Louis; "• Zenobia iu Chains," a majestic fig-u re which 
Miss Hosmer made her greatest undertaking, and in which she tried to express 
her ideal of a woman and a queen. Others of her most noted pieces are the 
popular little "■ Puck," of which about thii'ty copies were made, one being- 
ordered by the Prince of Wales: the "Sleeping Sentinel," and the "Sleeping- 
Fawn." 

Miss Hosmer was born at Watertown, Massachusetts, October 9, 1830. 

Miss Emma Stel)bins, the friend of Charlotte Cushman and the author of the 
"Life" of that celebrated actress, is another sculptor of note; Mrs. Freeman, 
of Philadelphia, has also done some beautiful works, and Miss Whitney, one of 
the few who have returned from Italy to work in this country, has achieved 



512 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

marked success, especially in the statue of "Rome" mourning- over her past 
g-lory; "Africa," and a statue of Samuel Adams, now in the Capitol at Wash- 
ing-ton. 

Most Americans and many good foreign critics think that our greatest living 
sculptor is John Quiiicy Adams Ward, who did some of the finest and most 
striking of his works without having had any of the foreign education that is 
deemed necessary to properly understand art. Mr. Ward is certainly the most 
thoroughly- American of all our sculptors. He is an Ohio man by birth, and at 
first he thought lie would become a physician, but, having* a special gift for art, 
he broke off his medical studies when he was twent3'^ years old and went into the 
studio of Henry Kirke Brown, one of the best sculptors in the country. After 
spending six years of study and encouraging work with Mr. Brown, Mr. Ward 
went to Washington, and after that — in the year in which the Civil War broke 
out— he opened a studio in New York, where he soon won a fame not only greater 
tlian that of his teacher, but in the minds of many persons greater than that of 
any other American sculptor of his time. 

" Mr. Ward is one of the more vigorous and individual sculptoi-s of the ag-e. 
While he is well "acquainted with foreign and antique art, he had Avorked at 
home and has drawn his inspiration from the art and nature of his own land. He 
has a mind overflowing with resources, and his fancy is never still." 

Beside his statues of Fitzgreen Halleck, Shakespeare, " The Private of the 
Seventh Regiment," and the "Indian Hunter" in Central Park, he has many 
pieces that are marked by great ability. The best of all perhaps is the bronze 
statue of Washington at Newburyport, Massachusetts. " There is in this statue, 
which is colossal in size, a sustained majest^y, dignity, and repose, and a harmony 
of design rarely attained in modern sculpture." 

Mr. Ward is now in the prime of life ; he has long enjo^^ed the friendship, the 
appreciation and respect of his fellow-artists in New York, and in 1874 was 
honored with the election to the office of President of the National Academy of 
Design. J. Q. A. Ward was boj-n at Urbana, Ohio, June 29, 1830. 



BUSINESS MEN. 



THE extent and wealtli of American business enterprise, especially in foreig'n 
trade, lias been remarkable from almost the beginning- of Colonial times. 
Before the Revolution our commerce Avas large and powerful. In its annals are 
found the names of some of our most successful men — great in force of character, 
powers of miud, honor, and good works ; and it is to them as much as to any 
class of our citizens that the United States owes its growth and its standing 
among the nations of the world. 

Most of our greatest business men made their mark after our country gained 
its independence. While Washington, Hamilton, and Jefferson were building up 
tlie nation, and Jackson, Scott, Decatur, and Perry were fighting for its rights 
on land and sea, they were toiling to establish its commerce and trade. Some 
heatlway had already been made. A few important business-houses had been 
established before the Revolution, and were doing a large and profitable trade at 
home and with foreign countries. Robert Morris, the great financier of the Rev- 
olution was one of these. 

Another was Elias Haskett Derby, of Salem, Massachusetts. He was 
probably the most important and the most respected New England merchant of 
liis time. About five years younger than Morris, he had a tall, handsome figure, 
an elegant carriage, and the grave, dignified manner of a thorough gentleman of 
the olden time. He was an earnest, industrious worker, and gained his educa- 
tion and much of his good standing by his own efforts, for his father, a sea-cap- 
tain and a merchant, was not a wealthy man. and called for Elias's help while 
he was still a growing boy. With few chances for education he made himself a 
scholar, and soon took charge of his father's books, wrote his letters, and attended 
to the accounts of the family. 

All this he did so well that he soon had a good deal of responsibility for his 
father, and for himself, too, for he married veiy young. From the time he Avas 
twenty-one until he was thirty-seven— that is, from IT GO till the Revolution broke 
out— he not only had full care of his father's books, but of his wharves and other 



514 One Hundred Famous Anteficans. 

propoi'ty, Avliile he was also in business on his own account. At the beyinnin^- of 
the wai- he owned seven saiUng- vessels in the West India tratle, and had a capi- 
tal of fift}' thousand dollars. This made him one of the I'ich and impoi-taiit men 
of the colony. In those days Salem was a great port. Boston only was gi-eatei* 
in New England, and bnt few others were equal to it in all the Colonies. 

Mr. Derby's life was a private one ; he rarely if ever held a public office, yet 
he was known and honored, not only in his native town and throughout the Col- 
ony, but in many far-off ports where he took or sent his vessels. 

There is no one who did more than he to improve the shipping and extend the 
commerce of the country, nor who has had a stronger oi^ bettei- influence on the 
young men who became masters and merchants after him. 

He is honored, too, as a patriot ; for while most of the rich men of Massachu- 
setts sided with the mother country during the Colonies' troubles, Mr. Derby kept 
with the Americans, though it was the worst thing he could do for his business. 
And he did more than side with the Revolutionists ; he helped them. At the time 
of the battle of Lexington, he loaned to the Government a large portion of the 
supplies for the army : and three years later, when General Sullivan marched into 
Rhode Island, he supplied the troops with boats to cross from the mainland to the 
island on which Newport stands. He also furnished coal to the French fleet. 

During the first year of the confiict, lie tried to carry on his business as if there 
were no war, but his trade was about ruined, and much of his property was de- 
stroyed, for the British cruisers did not spare the merchantmen of the I'ich Salem 
master. He found that he should either have to turn his vessels into piivateers 
— that is, to obtain f i-om Congress or the State tlie right to capture Bi'itish mei"- 
chant vessels — or else give up the sea-trade, which he and his fathers had followed 
for half a century. "Boston and Ncav York " — history says— " had been occu- 
pied and nearly luined by the enemy. Newport, Philadelphia, Savannah, and 
Chai-leston soon shared their fate ; and the main reliance of the country to keep 
up its intercourse with Europe, for supplies of arms and military stores, was 
on the shipping- of Salem and a cluster of small ports ai'ound it." This demand 
was not felt in vain ; there were I'ich ship-owners and good seamen to answer their 
country's unspoken call to i-esist the deeds of the British upon the high seas. Mr. 
Derby was foremost among them, and did a large shai-e in fitting out and arming- 
over a hundred and fifty private vessels that Avere sent out from Salem after the 
fiist yeai' of the Kevohition. These vessels did excellent service. Some few met 
witli a sad fate, but altogether they captui-ed almost three British ships to e\v\y 
one they lost from their own fleet. As the war went on, Mr. Derby saw the ini- 
l)ortanc(> of speed in vessels, and befoi/e long he set up a navy yard, building a 
class of \essels much larger in size, finer in make, and of g-reater speed than any 



EJia.^i Haskett Derby. 



515 



the Colonies had ever before had. They were in every way able to hold their own 
with the British sloops of war, which was a wonderful advance in American ship- 
huildiniy-, and of g-reat value just then to American independence. 

For himself, Mr. Derby made no elfort to grow rich at privateering, as many 
ship merchants did, but he was fairly successful, and at the close of the war he 
had four good ships in place of the seven sloops and schooners that he owned when 
the conflict began. But privateering gave him an experience which was of more 
value to him than its prizes. It taught him a great deal about commerce, and as 
soon as the welcome peace was declared, he started into new paths of his former 




Elias Haskett Derby. 

business. In knowledge, in courage and enterprise, and in vessels, he was now 
fitted for something beyond the humble trade he had carried on before the war, 
and was ready for ventures that he had never thought of before. His first step was 
to open trade with St. Petei'sburg. Then looking about toward othei- countries, and 
finding that other merchants were filling the small trade between tlie Southern 
States or West Indies and London, France, and Spain, he resolved to start in to- 
ward the East and take his place with the incorporated companies of France, 
England, Holland, and Sweden. He became " the father " of American commerce 
in India. He sent out a good ship to Cape Town and the coast of Africa on a 
great but successful venture, selling a cai-go and bringing back ivory and gold- 
dust from Africa, and sugar and cotton from the West Indies ; but not a single 



516 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

slave, for Mr. Derb}' said he would rather smk all the capital he had put into his 
ship than to be in the slightest way connected with this trade in human beings. 
This, too, when slave stealing and trading were common, and when America was 
about the greatest market for them in the world. 

He learned more about the wants and the prices of the India market from this 
expedition than he gained in actual profit, and from that time on, he sent out many 
ships to sevei'al great ports of India, and finally to China. He became one of the 
most important shipping merchants of the time, leading the way for many others, 
until our nation became known and respected in the commerce of the world. 
Others soon followed Mr. Derby's example in going to China, and l\y the year 1791 
there had been fifteen American vessels in Canton. But for a long time he kept 
the lead. He carried on a great India trade for eleven years, bringing cargoes to 
Boston and Salem from many famous ports in the East, or carrying them to im- 
portant merchants of New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, or Richmond, for this 
great ship-master supplied Oriental goods to some of the largest houses in this 
country, beside carrying on considerable ti'ade Avith almost all the impoilant 
ports of Europe. 

He supplied American connnerce with trained seamen as well as ships. At 
the beginning of this century there were few officers in the country able to take 
charge of an Indiaman on such long, untried voyages as he planned. So he had 
lessons in navigation given to many lads of the town at his own cost, and those 
who gave promise were put upon his ships. After a fair trial, all that showed 
tact and ability were soon given command at liberal salaries and an interest in the 
voyages. 

He gave a great deal of thought to improving ship models and to all other 
matters connected with the progress and improvement of the great business of 
foreign trade. Without having any scientific knowledge about the building and 
sparring of ships he was an excellent natural judge of models and proportions, 
and had better success in his etforts to make swift sailing vessels than had any 
one else in this or any other countiy. 

" To him," sa.ys one of the men of his time, '' our country is indebted for open- 
ing the valuable trade to Calcutta, before whose fortress his was the first vessel to 
display the American flag; and, following up the business, he reaped golden har- 
vests before other merchants came on the field. The first American ship seen at 
the Cape of Good Hope and the Isle of France belonged to him, and so did the first 
that carried cargoes of cotton from Bombay to China, and his M-ere among the first 
which made a direct voyage to the Celestial Empire and back. He continued to 
carry on a successful business on an extensive scale in those countries until the 
day of his death. In the transaction of affairs abroad he was liberal — very much 



Elias Haskett Derby. 517 

more so than modern shipping- merchants — always desirous that every one, even 
the foremast liands, should sliare the g'ood fortune to which he pointed tlie way ; 
and the long- list of masters of ships who have made ample fortunes in his employ- 
ment is a proof hoth of his wisdom in hiring- and his generosity in paying them." 
Wliile the whole coui'se of his life was devoted to his business with its manj^ cares, 
responsibilities, and larg'e interests, Mr. Derb3" was also a liberal and public- 
spirited man. He spent a g-reat deal of money to improve and enlarge the im- 
portance of Salem, to improve the defenses and the commerce of the country, and 
some of his large loans to the Government were for over sixty years unpaid to 
himself or his heirs, either in principal or interest. From about ten years before 
the close of the last century, as long as he lived, Mr. Derby kept up a correspond- 
ence with Benjamin Goodliue and Fisher Ames, members of Congress, and 
through them he did a g'reat deal to influence the laws that were made in reg:ard 
to commerce during- that time. When President Adams ordered a navy built, 
Mr. Derby was one of the foremost men to make up a subscrijDtion for Salem's 
share ; and it was from the yards there that the famous frigate Essex — built 
by Enos Briggs — was launched. She Avas the fastest ship and also one of the 
cheapest in the navy. She captured about two million dollars' worth of property 
from the enemy, was commanded by Captain Porter, then one of the most gal- 
lant sailors in the service, and, when she was taken at a disadvantag-e by an en- 
emy larg-er than herself, her commander and crew fought a battle which did 
honor to the country. Although she was afterwai'd captured in neutral waters 
in the Pacific, it was not until after one of the most savag-e and desperate 
struggles of all recorded in the history of the War of 1812. 

The last ship Mr. Derby sent out was a noble merchantman in command of his 
son. who had an eventful and most successful voyage with her to the Mediterra- 
nean, and did not return until her mast,er had passed aw^aj' from life. His estate 
was worth over a million of dollars. This, it is said, was the largest fortune left 
in this country during any part of the last century. It had been honorably made, 
by enterprise, care, and g-ood judgment, and a good management that saved him 
many severe losses. His enterprise and wisdom in matters of commerce wei'e 
above those of any other man of his time, and it is even said that few sea mer- 
chants, if anj-, have ever been greater than he. 

The lai-g-e fortune and great business name he left liehind him was stamped 
with the still nobler reputation of integrity, liberalitA-, and high honor as a mer- 
cliant and as a man. 

Elias H. Derby Avas born August 16, 1739, in Salem, Massachusetts, where he 
died about the 8th of September, 1799. 



518 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

When the patriots of Amei-ica wei-e in the hist year of the Revolutionaiy War, 
John Jacob Astor — afterward the wealthiest man in the United States — was 
a sturdy hid of seventeen, just leaving- his father's house in tlie German villag-eof 
Wahlorf, near Heidelberg-. He carried with him a bundle of clothes and two dol- 
lars in money, and was further fitted to make his way in the world by a good, plain 
education, a strong- constitution, plenty of common-sense, no bad habits and some 
very g-ood ones. " Soon after I left the villag-e,"* he said, " I sat down beneath a 
tree to rest, and there I made three resolutions — to be honest, to be industrious, 
and not to g-amble." He g'ot work on a raft g'oing- down the Rhine, for which he 
received ten dollars at the mouth of the river. This took him to London, where 
he had a brother who made musical instruments for a business. Two years were 
spent with the London brother, and at the end of that time John Jacob had 
learned to speak English, found out a g'ood deal about musical instruments, got a 
g-ood suit of clothes and seventy-five dollars in money. Twenty-five of the dollars 
boug-ht seven German flutes of the elder brother, and twenty-five more paid for a 
steerag-e passag-e to America. On the voyage he become acquainted with a Ger- 
man who had been eng-ag-ed in b ikying- furs from the American Indians and told 
,young- Astor a great deal about how to carry on that business, so that he resolved 
to try it himself. • In New York, the two ship-companions went to tlie house of 
another brother of Astor's, wlio was a prosperous butcher. Tliere the prospects 
ft)r the young- man were talked over, and the men decided that he had better find 
employment with some good furrier for a time, until he got a practical knowledge 
of the business. He went eai'uestly to work, and not only learned the value and 
the quality of furs, and how to take care of them, l)ut all the details of curing and 
preserving them. From the trappers that came to the store, he learned the hab- 
its and the haunts of furred animals and the best way of sec^iring them. By care- 
fully attending to his business and making himself useful to his employer in every 
way possible, he rose from one position to another, until he was even trusted to 
undertake the important errand of going to Monti'eal to buy furs. Now the ad- 
vice of his German ship-companion came into use. He had said to buy trinkets, 
go among the Indians, make the best bargains he could, and secure the furs on 
the spot. Astor found that the suggestions Avere veiy useful, and he was much 
pleased with his success in following them. When he returned, his employer* was 
surprised at the great anu)unt of skins, or peltries, he had been able to get for the 
small amount of money he had spent. 

By the time Mr. Astor was twenty-three years old, he felt that, having care- 
fully studied the fur-trade in all its details, and having- had success in his i)ractical 
experience in l)uying-, he was ready to set up a business of his own. He took a 
small store in Water Street, which he stocked with toys and oilier articles that 



Jolui Jacob Astor 



519 



the Indians liked to .i^-et. The store was small ; he had no help — although he soon 
took a partner— and the whole stock was worth only a few hundred doUai's. 




John Jacob Astor. 

When there were not many, pelts coming in he shouldered a pack of trinkets and 
some useful things and went out among the Indian farmers and trappers, which 
were then numerous enough in Central New Yoi-k. Usually he was soon able to 
buy up or barter a good stock of pelt lies. Then he would go back and cure them 



520 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

hiuisolf. Vv^lien he liacl been able to keep some long- enough to get a pretty g-ood 
nunibei- together, he decided to follow more of his ship-companion's advice, 
and, instead of selling- his g'oods to the New York dealers, decided to ship them 
directly to London, where they would sell for four or five times as much as in 
America. Taking- steerag-e passage he went himself with the first shipment, sold 
his own furs and made arrang-ements Avith seA'eral g'ood houses to ship them furs, 
and to draw upon tlie firms to which they were consig-ned. He also made arrajige- 
ments to act as the New" York agent for the musical instruments made by his 
London brother. This w^as a g-ood thing- and brought him a large income ; and 
having found a market for his furs abroad and secured the trade of Lidians and 
white trappers at home, his business grew very fast. He lived over his store, 
having married a New York lady, Avho soon learned the business and had — so Mi\ 
Astor said — as good a knowledge of furs and capacity for business as himself. 

Of course, by this time he had many assistants, and Jay's treaty of 1795 hav- 
ing placed the frontier forts in the hands of the Americans j he soon had his agents 
at work buying furs in many places along the Great Lakes, and even across the 
country to Oregon Territory. He thought of and planned out the vast scheme of 
sti-etching his tratle across the continent, by setting up a line of trading-posts 
Avhich extended frem the Great Lakes, along- the Missouri and Columbia Rivers to 
the mouth of the Columbia, Avhere, in April, 1811, he founded Astoria. This Avas 
to be a central station, and then by getting possession of one of the SandAvich 
Islands for another station, he planned to supply China and the Indies with furs 
directly from the Pacific coast, instead of sending them all the AA-ay round from 
NeAA- York, as he AA-as then doing. It Avas a grand plan, but tAvo expeditions failed, 
and the whole scheme Avas finally lietrayed to the British Fur Company of the 
NorthAvest by one of his chief agents. Astoria AA-as the main point in the Ameri- 
can claims to the Oregon Territory, Avhen the seA'erc dispute Avas held OA'er the 
North Avest betAvoen Great Britain and the L^nited States during the years from 
184-3 to 1846. 

After Mr. Astor had been in business fifteen years he left Water Street, 
bought the place at 2-23 BroadAA-ay — Avhere the Astor House noAv stands — and 
moA'ed his residence to a more fashionable part of toAvn. By this time he AA-as 
AA-orth tAA'o hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and Avas turning eA-ery article that 
he liought or sold into profit. The beaver skins that he bought for a dollar each 
in Western New York he sold in London for six dollars apiece ; and, iuA-esting 
that money in English goods, especially the musical instruments, had the same 
ship bring back a cargo that sold at a large profit in America. After aAvhile his 
vessels Avent to Eastern as Avell as European ports, and the ships, bearing fui-s 
that sold at a large i^rofit in China, brought back teas and silks that commanded 



John Jacob Astor 



521 



excellent prices in New York. Usually a ship g'oing- to China and back aver- 
ai^'ed a protit of thirty thousand dollars ; sometimes a trip netted seventy thou- 
sand dollars. 

He g-ave such faithful attention to his business and had such great abihty in it, 
that when his commerce extended over nearly all the seas of the civilized world, 
he conti-olled the actions of his ship-masters in the smallest matters, and it is said 





Astor Library. 

that he was never known to make a mistake in judgment, or in the facts that he 
pretended to know. 

It is reckoned that he made about two millions in the fur-trade ; but the greater 
part of his immense fortune was made in real estate. As fast as he could invest 
money outside of his business, he bought houses and lots in the upper part of New 
York City ; and sometimes, when people would not sell, he leased the property 
for a long time and made money by sub-letting it. After he bought a piece of 
land he built upon it, and began to make it paj^ at once by renting the houses ; 
but he would not sell them. The rents soon paid for the building of other 
houses, until the Astor estate had as many as seven thousand houses in New 



522 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

York City, a fow in the centi'al pai-t, but mostly the,>' were in what were tlien the 
suburbs — near Astor Place, along- the Hudson, near Fortieth and Fiftieth Streets, 
and other sections, which with the j^i-owth of the city soon became central loca- 
tions, and rose in valuation very fast. The Astor House, which was built in about 
1830, was then the finest building" on Broadway, and the largest and best hotel in the 
country. When it was linished he gave it to his eldest son, William B. Astor, 
who also received almost the wiiole of his father's vast loroperty at his death, and 
spent larg'e sums in carrying- forward the works already begun by the great mer- 
chant. When he boug-ht Aaron Burr's estate at Richmond Hill, he paid one 
thousand dollars per acre for the one hundred and sixty acres. Twelve years 
after it was woith liltcen huiulivd dollai's a lot, and a lot is not quite one eiglitli 
of an acre. 

He left at his death the largest fortune ever made in America ; his estate was 
worth at least twenty millions. Fifty thousand dollars of this was willed to the 
))oor of his native town in Germany, and four hundi-ed thousand was left for the 
founding- of the Astor Library in New^ York City, which received nearly as much 
more fi'om Mi". William B. Astor, so that it now has a larger amount of money 
settled on it than is possessed by almost any free reference librai-y on the Ameri- 
can continent. • 

He made other public gifts, either while living or in his will, of thousands of 
dollars to the association for the relief of poor old ladies, and to the German 
Society of New York. This was for the establishment of an office in the city where 
good, German-speaking clerks should be employed to give advice and infoi-mation 
without charge to all immigr'ants here, who might want to know about getting 
settled in this country, and also to protect them ag-ainst any people who might 
take advantage of their not knowing- the lang-uage and cheat them, or do them 
harm. 

The splendid success of old Mr. Astor, as he was long- called in New Yoi-k, was 
due chiefly to his temperate habits, his perseverance, his punctuality, and to his 
habit of making himself thoroughly understand an enterprise before entering- upon 
it, and taking care that no money was wasted. In real estate he boug-ht just 
in time to be benefited by a great and sudden rise in the value of New York 
property. He was always an early riser, and until he was hfty-five years old he 
never failed to be at his stoi-e before; seven o'clock in the morning. In this way 
he gave to his larg-e and often perplexing affairs tlie best hours of the day, and by 
the time he w^as master of his g-reat business, he was usually ready to leave at 
about two in the afternoon. He was very promjjt in all engagements, and was 
remarkable for his coolness and clieerfiilness in the midst of his greatest losses. 
But those who admired and loved him most could scared v overlook the one defect 



Thomas Pijiu Cope. 523 

of his character as a business man. He was not liberal, but was extremely care- 
ful and close in nionej' dealing's, althoug-h he was sometimes generous in chari- 
table gifts. 

John Jacol) Astor was born in Waldorf, in tlie Grand Duchy of Baden, Ger- 
many, on July ir, 1:0:5. He died in New York City, March 29, 1848. 

One of the gTeatest and most hig-hl^- honored merchants of his time was 
Thomas Pyiii Cope, a Quaker of Philadelphia. When he was eig-hteen years 
old he went from his country home in Lancaster County to that city to learn to 
be a business man. He entered the countin,g--room with an excellent start, for 
he had a g-ood education in English, German, and Latin. Step by step he rose 
to positions of responsibility and importance, until in 1T90, after he had been four 
years in the city, he set up for himself. He built a corner store at Second Street, 
and what was then called Pewter Platter Alley, and began business in a modest 
wa}' with one fixed principle, " honesty always." 

Seventeen years passed, and the business — still in the same store — had gi'own 
so large that Mr. Cope imported his own goods from foreign countries and began 
to think of building a ship for himself and enteinng the commercial branch of his 
trade. In this he soon grew to be very important, and after several years of 
success he established the first regular line of packet ships between Philadelphia 
and Liverpool, England, which has endui'ed through all the hai'd times through 
which American commerce has passed, and has long owned ships of great ton- 
nage. 

A 3'ear or two after Mr. Cope began to take part in commei'cial enterprises, 
he removed his business to the famous old Walnut Street Avharf. where he made 
the greater part of his vast business success. He was the friend, and in commerce 
often the rival, of Stephen Girard. who is very famous as a merchant but is 
still better known as a philanthi-opist. Like that peculiar French ship-mas- 
ter. Cope was generous and public-spirited, and during the yellow fever scourges 
of 1793 and 1797 he. too went to the aid of his suffering townspeople, both with 
money and with his own work. He held some city offices about this time, in 
which he did a great deal to better the condition of the sick and the poor. He 
was also sent to the Legislature of the State, and was asked to run for Congress,- 
but this he refused as it would take his mind too much from his business. Yet 
he was deeply interested in the prosperity and prcrgress of the country and the 
welfare of his State and city. Mr. Girard chose him for one of the trustees of 
his bank and as an executor of his will, by which so nuich Avas done for the people 
and the city of Philadelphia and for the improvement of the Avhole State. Among 
other good things which the Pennsylvania capital owes chiefly to Mr. Cope are 



524 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

the g'ood city water, the completion of the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, the 
buying- and laying- out of Fairmount Park, and the starting- of the Pennsylva- 
nia Railroad. He presided at the town meeting's held about this road, urg-ing- 
upon his fellow-citizens the g-reat importance which it would be to Philadelphia, 
aiul giving- more money toward it than any other subscriber. There were few 
(juestions of public welfare before the people of Philadelphia during- the first half 
of this century to which Mr. Cope did not g-ive some sort of valuable aid. His 
money, his influence, his wide experience, sound judg-ment, and generous spirit 
marked the affairs of the city during- all the years of his manhood. In his OAvn 
business, he had the hig-hest position as the President of the Board of Trade of Phil- 
adelphia. This is a commercial institution, which has a g-eneral oversight upon 
everything- connected with the trade of the city. It has the power to create, foster, 
and direct plans and means of business, and to decide upon the customs of trade. 
It is both powerful and useful, and must always be made up of the most sound, 
experienced, and high-principled of business men, for it is necessary that the 
members of the trade at large, who look to it for direction, should have perfect 
confidence in its members; and the head of the institution is the first man in it. 
This place Mr. Cope held among the merchants of his time as long as he lived. 

He was looked upon as the father of the Mercantile Library of Philadelphia, and 
Avas for a long time President of that Company — which has always been the pride of 
Philadelphia merchants. It is, with its great store of books, its beautiful hall, a*id 
courses of public lectures, one of the most useful institutions in the city. From 
the time the Company was founded, as long as he lived, Mr, Cope was rarely 
absent from these meetings, and among the younger merchants his upright figure, 
fine bearing, and firm and elastic step, was an object of respect and admiration ; 
and so enterprising and courageous, so wise and prudent had been every step of 
his honored and successful career, that he was looked up to as a model in his 
business, while his public and private life was a pattern to all the young men in 
the city. This to Mr. Cope was perhaps the greatest joy of his life — that his ex- 
ample was deemed worthy to be folloAved by those Avho hoped to become the great 
Philadelphia merchants of the future. 

In social companies the young ])eople begged his pi'esence. He was so full of 
lively spirits, of experiences, stoi-ies, ])leasant wit, and refined humor, and so 
kindly and good-natured with all his grander (pialities, that everybody felt that 
his company was a delight as well as an honor. 

Altogether — we are told by a writer of his life — he was a merchant, enterpris- 
ing, liberal, and successful ; a Christian philanthropist, self-denying and devoted : 
a man, upright, respected, and beloved. 

The business of a merchant is to buy as cheaply as possible, and to sell his 



Abbott Lawrence. 525^ 

g'oods for as much as lie can ri.^-htly g-et ; it is to exchang-e the products, to help 
along- the intercourse of men and the interchange of merchandise between his own 
and other countries, to buy ships, to load them, to sell and exchange cargoes and 
vessels, with the object of gaining money or its value in every transaction. But 
all this is based on the ' ' b igher law ; ' ' and while Mr. Cope was a true merchant, 
his life was ruled by lofty principles of rig-ht and wrong. None of his success was 
gained by means which it would hurt his character to have exposed. He was 
square and just in all dealings, and jealous of the honor of his profession. His 
life told the story — ^which he was too modest ever to put into words himself — 
of an industrious, economical, prudent youth, of a just, liberal, punctual, enter- 
prising, middle age, not too fearful of risking a venture, yet never foolhardy nor 
willing to buy success at the cost of another man's misfortune. 

Thomas P. Cope was born in Lancaster County, Penns^-lvania, August 26, 
1T68. He died in Philadelphia, November 22, 1854. 

Fifty years ago the name of Abbott Lawrence was known far and wide 
as that of a "■ Merchant Prince " of New Eng-land, and a noble-hearted, generous 
philanthropist. He belonged to the g'eneration younger than Elias Derb}^ and 
was an unknown clerk when Thomas Cope was in the piime of life. He began 
with a plain education gained at a country school — and in the latter part of the 
last centur3^ country schools were a g-ood deal poorer than they are now. When 
he was sixteen he began to work. With his bundle under his arm and less than 
three dollars in his pocket, he started for Boston, where he became clerk in the 
store of his brother, Amos Lawrence, who was then a merchant of high standing-. 
He was dilig-ent and bright about his work, " taking- hold," as people say, far better 
than many of the boys around him. In a very short time he found that his 
schooling had not been enough for a successful man — as he hoped to be — so he 
spent his evenings in diligent study. 

After five years of good, faithful service, his brother took him into partner- 
ship, and the.y began working together with the prospects of a ver^^ fine business. 
But the second war with Eng-land came on then, stopping' trade and bringing- 
money troubles, so that Abbott Lawrence lost what he had and became a bank- 
rupt at the outset of his business career. As soon as the war was over his bi'other 
helped him generousl,y, and they made another start together. Abbott went to 
England to buy goods for their stock. From this time he developed so much skill 
and prudence in his bargains, and so much industry and judgment about all busi- 
ness matters, that the firm soon began to make larga profits. The trips were re- 
peated year after year, and the house of A. & A. Lawrence built up a great 
importing" trade, from which Amos soon retired with a large fortune. Meanwhile 



5'2i) One Hundred Famous Americans. 

tliey woi'e very obsei'ving- ol" what Americans were capable of iiianufactiiring-, and 
tliroug'h Abbott's sug'g-estion they looked very closely into domestic trade and 
i-esolved I'oi" the fiitui-e to give more attention to g'oods made in this country and 
less to importing- Irom loreign makers. By turning- his attention to home manu- 
factures at once, he thought he \vould be able to do a great deal to help along 
American industries, and he also thought that he could be among- the first to 
establish his house in a trade that would linally prove more paying than importa- 
tion. He was Avilling to i-isk the ncAv departure, and try a great experiment for 
the sake of being foremost in the trade, if it succeeded, and also for the sake of 
advancing- the manufacturing interests of the countrj-. So he stopped importing, 
antl. uniting with the Lowells and some other leading business men of New Eng- 
land, he put his money and enei-gies into a new and i-ather i-isky manufacturing 
scheme. A factory site was selected near a g-reat natm-al fall on the Merrimac 
Rivei', and then he joined with Nathan Appleton and some othei' wealthy Boston 
men, and incorporated the Essex Manufacturing Company, for founding a larg-e 
cotton manufactory there. The spot was chosen in 1845, and in two years a great 
solid gi-anite tlam was thrown across the i-apids, and a canal ninety feet wide and 
more than a mile long- was made for the water to flow into and feed the mills, 
which were soon built. The first wheel was set in motion the next year, and the 
famous mamd'acturing town of Lawrence was begun. The venture proved a suc- 
cess, and fi'om that time forward all Abbott Lawrence's great business intei'ests 
and labors were in cotton manufactures. He was the first g-reat lival to the South, 
and attended the famous Convention at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, wiiich sent a 
memoi-ial to Congress, and had some influence in bringing about the increased 
tariff duties of 1828, against which John C. Calhoun prepared his famous paper, 
the " South Carolina Exposition," with its States' Rights doctrines, while all the 
cotton-raising- States of the South i-ose in angry protest. 

The wisdom and judgment and great business success of Abbott Lawrence 
made liim a marked man now, and there were many calls upon him to go into 
public life. But, while he was ahvays willing- to do his duty, he did not wish to 
get into politics, and declined every nomination when he felt he could do so I'ightly. 
In 18;>4 ho Avas a member of Congress and served so at)i.\' tliat four years lalei- he 
was ag-ain sent, althoug-h he did not wish to go. Once, diii'ing his second term, 
when he was home from Washington en account of ill health, the ])eoi)le of Boston 
became alarmed about the Government because the banks had declared that they 
could not pay out an_\' more sii\er — that is, tliey had suspended specie payment, as 
grown people say. The excitement would have caused a severe panic in Boston 
and done great harm to business but for Mi'. Lawrence. He told the people that 
there was no dan<2-er of their losini-- their mone\' if tliev were not in too great a 



Abbott L(urreuc<\ 



52? 



hun-v ; and everybody liad such pci-feci trust in his judi;nieiit that they were sat- 
isfied when he said the Govermnent was all right. 

He canre very close to being- nominated Vice-President in the next election, and 
was offered a seat in President Taylor's Cabinet. He refused tliis office, but ac- 
cepted the offer of the ministry to England, where he spent three years in service 
that was a credit to himself and an honor to his country. His beautiful enter- 




Abbott Lawrence. 

tainments, coin-teous manners, and noble, benevolent character, made him g-reatly 
l)eloved and respected in London. 

He, and liis brother Amos also, did a g-reat deal of g-ood with their wealth, by 
giving- to those who were poor and in trouble, and in g-reat bequests to help along- 
larg-e causes. The Lawrence Scientific School of Harvard University was founded 
by Abbott, who also gave many thousands of dollars for professorships and other 
thing-s to aid the institution after it was built and its work was started. He gave 



5:38 One Hundred Famous Auiei-iecuis. 

oway about seven hundred thousand dollars during- his life, beside leaving a hun- 
dred and fifty thousand by will for different charities. The most important of 
these were the model houses for the poor in Boston, and the Boston Public 
Library. 

Abbott Lawrence was born at Groton, Massachusetts, December 16, 1T02. 
He died in Boston, Aug-ust 18, 18.3"). 

Amos Lawrence was four years older than his brother. He beg-an business 
in Boston when he was twenty-one, and retired, leaving- his brother Abbott in 
chai'ge in 1831, about six years before the manufactories were set up on the ]\Ier- 
rimac ; and from that time he devoted himself to taking- care of his g-reat fortune 
and to doing- good Avith it. During the last twenty years of his life he is said to 
have given over six hundred thousand dollars to charity, especially toward im- 
proving schools and colleges. Williams College, the academy at Groton, the the- 
ological seminary at Bangor in Maine, and Kenyon College in Ohio, all were 
beneiited by this genei'ous man, while no list can be made of the large amount of 
good he did in a private way. 

Amos Lawrence was also born in Groton, April 22, 1T8G, and died in Boston, 
December 30, 1852. 

The largest fortune ever made in America was that of the famous ship-owner 
and railroad king, Cornelius Vaiiderbilt. He started out as a poor boy, and 
i-eached his great success by industry, economy, perseverance, enterprise, and 
courage. He knew hoAv to work, and knew the value of money. He could 
always be trusted ; when he made a bargain it was fulfilled in the best possible 
manner; and it Avas because his promises could be depended upon that he coidd 
connnand better prices than any of his fellow-workers. 

When he was seventeen years old he had a reputation on Staten Island and 
among the watermen around the lower part of New York for always doing what- 
ever he set out to. Daring, courageous, and fond of the water, he was then help- 
ing his father to run a sailboat between Staten Island and New York, to ca rr^' 
farm produce and passengers back and forth. He begged his mother to let him 
have a hundred dollars to buy a boat so he could become one of the harbor boat- 
men. Mrs. Vanderbilt said she would give him the money if he Avould plow, bar- 
row, and plant a certain acre of rough land on the farm ; and it had to be done 
on the day she named. He did the task, w^on his right to the money, and joyfully 
got his boat. For the next three years he earned a thousand dollars a 3'ear, and 
by the time he was twenty-one was tlie first among forty of the leading boatmen 
of the harbor. His boat was better than any of the others, and his knowledge of 



Cornelius Vanderhilt, 



529 



the business was perfect. Out of the money earned in these three years, he saved 
enoug-h to buy his clothes and turned the rest over to his parents. 

There were many stories told flft^- years ago about the daring- deeds done in 








Cornelius Vanderbilt. 



storm and danger by " Corneel " Vanderbilt, who was reckoned the bravest, cool- 
est, and in all points the best boatman around New York. 

In 1814 he bid with several others for the contract to supply the military forts 
about the harbor with provisions, and although his bid was higher than the most of 
the others, he got the contract, because it was well known that he never failed to 
do a thing he set out to. But this job did not interfere with his chance custom in 
the daytime, for, being regular work, he thought it could be just as well done at 



530 One Hnndred Fainotis Americans. 

iiig"ht, and so it was. He was married by this time, and, with his wife's help^ 
made money ver^^ fast. In 1814 he built and paid for a little schooner, called the 
Dread naught, and the next year, with his brother-in-law, he built another, the 
Charlotte, which was put into the coasting- trade. Three years later he owned 
two or three sloops and schooners and had nine thousand dollars saved. About this 
time steamboats were coming- into general use, and Vanderbilt was given the place 
of captain, at one thousand dollars a year, to run for its owner, Mr. Gibbon, a new 
boat from New York to New Brunswick, New Jersey. He was earning more 
money at his own work, but when Mr. Gibbon offered him the place he accepted 
it for the sake of getting acquainted with steamboating. Tlie passeng-ers which 
tliis boat carried had to stay all night at New Brunswick before they could go on 
with the other stages of their journey to Philadelphia. There was a miserably 
kept hotel at New Brunswick, which Vanderbilt got, rent free. He fixed it up, 
and with his wife in charge of it, soon made it a paying and a popular house. 
Captain Vanderbilt ran this boat line for Mr. Gibbon for four years, amidst a 
great deal of competition and opposition, but so successfully that Mr. Gibbon 
made a profit of forty thousand dollars a year, and the captain liimself saved 
thirty thousand dollars beside getting the lease for fourteen years of a very profit- 
able ferry between Elizabethport, N(»w Jersey, and New York City. 

Refusing all offers of partnership, Captain Vanderbilt now went back to doing- 
business entirely on his own account with the Caroline, a small steamer which he 
built, owned, and commanded himself. For nineteen years he steadilj" increased 
his ownership of vessels running on the Hudson, on Long Island Sound, and in 
other places. He started and kept running- lines that were so opposed by large 
combinations of capital that they often cost him a great deal of money, but he 
always was sharp and determined enough to drive his rivals out of the field or 
force them to make terms with him. He opened a new route to San Francisco b}^ 
tlie way of the Panama Isthmus that made the distance between the Empire City 
and the Golden Gate a great deal shorter. He started lines of steamers- 
uj)on both the great oceans, and, single-handed, was the great rival of about all 
the ocean transportation companies of his time. Far and wide he was known as 
the " Commodore " of the American sea trade. In all he owned at one time sixty- 
six good, useful vessels, of which twenty-one were steamers : these he governed 
and controlled liimself. With a fortune of about forty millions he arranged to 
leave the water in 1864, being- then seventy years old, and the owner of a large! 
pai't of the New York and New Haven Railroad, several millions' worth of Erie 
stock, and the Avhole of the New York and Harlem Railway, with whicli he con- 
solidated the New York Central and the Hudson River Road, holding controlling 
interests hi them. Before long he made connection with the Michigan Southern 



Harnj B. W. HiU. 531 

and Lake Shore Roads, and put all under one management. This, with its side 
branches, made a line of two thousand one hundred and twenty-eight miles, and 
had a capital of one hundred and forty-nine millions of dollars. 

Unlike Mr. Astor, whose wealth and power rose almost along' with Vauder- 
bilt's, the "Commodore"' was far from miserly, Avith his faculty for amassing- 
wealth. He spent money freely to g-ain a desirable end, often saying- that he did 
not care so much about making money as he did about carrying- his point. He 
Avas also ready to give freely to any cause that seemed to him a Avorthy one. At 
the opening of the AA-ar, he presented to the Government the steamer VauderhiU, 
w^hich was Avorth eight hundred thousand dollars. He gaAe a sum almost as 
large to the Vanderbilt University, at XasliAille, Tennessee. In New York he 
bought and gaA-e to the Rca-. Dr. Deems, the ]\Iercer Street Church, which is now 
AA'ell knoAA'n as the Church of the Strangers. It Avould be bard to find out and re- 
count all the smaller charities thatAA^ere aided by Commodore A-^anderbilt's wealth. 
At the time of his death, his property was belieA^ed to be Avorth something betAveen 
sixty and eighty millions. His Avill provided amply for his family and left the 
great bulk of his fortune to his son William H. Vanderbilt, Avho liA-ed to carry out 
many of the unfinished plans of his fatlier, and to be a benefactor to Ncav York 
City and the whole country. 

Cornelius Vanderbilt Avas born on Staten Island, May '27, 1794. He died in 
New York City, January 3, 1877. 

While Vanderbilt Avas building up his fortunes in the AA'aters about Ncav York. 
and Abbott LaAvrence was reigning as a merchant prince in New England, and 
Jonas Chickering Avas managing his great piano Avorks at Boston, the name of 
Harry R. W. Hill, of New Orleans, Avas becoming knoAvn and honored in all 
the southern and soutliAA-estern portions of the countrA'. Like General Jackson, 
he began to get an education in a log-cabin on one of the "old fields" of the 
cotton district. But CA-en this poor priA'ileg'e lasted onh' for a couple of years, 
for little Harry Hill belonged to a plain family of hard Avorking people. At first 
they lived in North Carolina, but he scarcely remembered that life, for his father 
died AA^hen he Avas about five years old, and Mrs. Hill, marrying ag-ain some time 
after, took him to her neAv home in Williams County, Tennessee. The little lad 
made this journey aU the Avay on foot, Avalking beside the horse on Avhicli his 
mother rode. He carried his gun Avith him, too, and supplied the small party Avith 
food by shooting game along- the lonely road. 

The new life Avas a rough, hard one for them all, for they had come to a fron- 
tier country next to the territory of the ChickasaAv Indians. The boy had Iavo 
years of the best schooling to be found, AAiiich Avas extremely poor, and all he 



532 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

learned after that he taught himself. From the '' old field school " he went into 
a store in the town of Franklin, where, on errahds for his mother, he had made the 
store-keeper's acquaintance and had so attracted him by his lively wit, good na- 
ture, and brig-ht, active ways, that he was finally offei-ed a place behind the 
counter. The merchant died after several j^eai's, and although Harry was then 
only twenty-one years old, he settled the estate so well that the fiiends and neigh- 
bors of the dead store-keeper said that young- Hill ought to have a chance to work 
into his late employer's trade. So they joined together in helping- him to set up a 
store of his own, and in paying- his expenses to Philadelphia to buy g-oods. They 
were not mistaken in him. He returned with a g-ood stock and for seven years 
carried on so successful a business that he made a handsome foi'tune in it. 

When a middle-aged man — of forty years — he married, and leaving Franklin 
for a larger place, settled at Nashville, took a partner, and with him was soon 
managing- a fine commercial and steamboat trade. From there, after five years, 
he Avent to New Orleans, united with the old merchant firm of N. & J. Dick, and 
soon extended its importance throughout all the Southwest, managing enor- 
mous sums of money and making both his firm and himself popular wherever they 
were known. When the money troubles of '37 swept over the country', N. & J. 
Dick & Company suffered heavily. They were connected with many houses that 
failed, and after a number of great losses they were forced to suspend. But Mr. 
Hill and his partners had no idea of failure ; and for seven years he toiled almost 
Avithout rest till he had once more built up their power and won back the credit 
and character of the house. At last the labor was rewarded and they paid off all 
their debts of several millions of dollars in full, and had enough capital left to 
enable them to go on upon almost as large a scale as before the hard times. In 
1847, Mr. James Dick went out of the firm, three new partners were taken in, and 
it was then known as Hill, McLean & Co. But its affairs were not as suc- 
cessful as they had been before, and in less than five years there was almost a 
panic in the Crescent City, when it was told one morning- that Hill, McLean & 
Co. had again suspended. The news spread throughout the Mississippi Valley, 
and scarcely a business man felt himself safe, while a gloom was cast over every 
commercial settlement in the South and West. If that house fell, thousands 
woidd go with it. Besides their own trouble the money market was very dull, 
and the firm were in the depths of despair. Mr. Hill met with the other partners 
and told them that, for the honor of their house, and to save the terrible calam- 
ity its fall would bring to others, he would turn in all his own means, which was 
a private fortune that he had been making and saving, above his business opera- 
tions, during more than thirty years. Pledging his own property, he assumed all 
the debts of the firm, released his partners, and undertook the work of settlement 



Harry R. \V. Hill. 533 

sing-le-handed. In the course of five months all the claims were paid off, and the 
credit of the old house was once more sound and g'ood. Business was resumed 
under Mr. Hill's own name and management, and from that time was carried on 
by himself alone. 

Meanwhile he was also a man of public spirit and active work, outside of his 
own affairs. While he would never hold a pul)lic office, he did a great deal for 
the welfare and progress of Tennessee, Louisiana, and Mississippi; and betook 
the lead in planning roads and other internal improvements, urging- their value, 
influencing legislators, and giving largely toward the funds needed to carry them 
through. While living at Nashville, he took a gi'eat deal of interest in the Texan 
revolutionists, once sending five thousand dollars to relieve the wants of the 
Texans, and supplying them with the war materials with which they fought and 
gained the battle of San Jacinto. He was warmly in favor of having General 
Jackson for President, and he not only g-ave liberally toward the expenses of the 
campaign, but, after the election, put money in the President's own hands when 
he found him on his way to Washington and without plenty of means. 

Public-spirited as Miv. Hill was, and willing to give both time and money to 
the progress and Avelfare of the country, he would not go into politics, and the 
only prominent office of any kind that be ever took was in the Society of Free 
Masons, where he was Grand Master for many 3'ears. Schemes for the g-ood of 
others were almost ahvays on his mind. Private cases, churches, and public 
charities received hundreds of thousands of dollars from him ; and the last act 
of his life, and that which caused his death, was taking care of some of his black 
servants that were stricken with yellow fever. His only son received his gi-eat 
fortune. Mr. Hill himself came verA'near inheriting a. fortune beside the one he 
made, for his old partner, Mr. James Dick, called his lawyer to make out his 
Avill in favor of his ''loved friend and valued partner." But as soon as Mr. Hill 
heard of it, he went to him, and, by using all the arg'uments in his power, induced 
him to leave the estate to others not so well off as himself. 

Mr. Hill's son had cause to be proud of every cent of his inheritance, for it liad 
been gained by honorable business transactions, by a merchant who prayed that 
God w^ould direct the ways of his life, whose shrewd management, courage, and 
enterprise never overstepped the line between right and wrong-, and whose great 
principles of trade were honesty and systematic and faithful attention to his 
Avork. 

The great plantations, which were woi'ked by over a thousand slaves, Avere 
under excellent arrangements of culture and improvement, while the laboi-ers wei-e 
Avell used, justly and even generously treated. Mr. Hill very often went among 
them himself, seeing that all was right and just, listening to their troubles and 



r):U One 1 1 mid red Fhiiioks Anwricdii:^. 

.sliariuii' tlieir Jnys. ]\linistiM's weri' hiivd to he [)ast()fs aiul pivaflicrs to them; 
and Sunda\ inoriiin.ys he would i^o witli tlioiu to tlio servkos. sittiiii;' among- them 
in tlic open air or upon tin; bonohos of the log-cabin. He gave each man a plot of 
gfouuil to work for himself, and bought what he raised at the market prices, 
while stores were set up on the plantations and articles sold at the cost jirice. 
He olfered prizes for cU'anlincss. good conduct, and attention to work, and once a 
year ])r(>sents of such things as the negroes liked or needed were given out among 
them all. 

^Mr. Hill was born in Halifax County. North Carolina, in the year 1787. He 
died in New Orleans in Septembei", 1853. 

One of the great(>s1 manufacturers that ever lived or worked in this country 
was Jonas Cliiclvoriiij*-, the piano-maker. In his business, which g-rew very 
large while he was in it. he was the only American of real importance, while he 
also held t he lirst place among all the foreign makers of t he country. He deserves 
a place among the most famous men in our history. We have had no statesman, 
lawyei', or soldier — it is said — who has shoAvn greater •Klua lit ii's of mind, or has 
g-ained better success in the object for which he worked. When his talents, his 
character, and his'hands were his only capital, every one who knew him knew also 
that h(> could lu' perlV>ctly trusted, and all through life his word was as good as 
his bond. 

As the son of a humble New Hampshire farmer antl blacksnuth. he left home 
to learn cabinet -making when he was seventeen. He had two leatling traits then, 
his love and talent tor nuisic and the Avay his mind took in everything about 
his iraile anil about all the tools that were used in the sho]i. 

One important day he was called npon to repair the only pianoforte in New 
Ipswich, wlu're he lived. He had seen and could play on several mstrnments 
and knew a g'ood deal about music, but this was entirely new to him. He ex- 
amined every portion of the old, injured, and out-of-tnne piano, found out what 
was the matter, made the repairs for which his services liad been called, and reset 
^he entir(> instrument. It was so successfully done, that he resolved to be a piano- 
maker instead of a cabinet-maker, and as this was in the last year of his appren- 
ticeslii|i, he soon set out for Boston with that purpose. He was now twenty years 
old, and whil(> he was making up his mind about how he should start in the new 
business, and whether he could possibly do so, he spent his time working in a cab- 
inet-maker's shop and earning" some very necessary money. 

At the end of just a year, without losing- a day between, he left the cabinet- 
maker's and went into the factory of a piano-maker. This step was the fii-st in a 
new era in his lif(> : it was also one that led to a i;-reat addition to the manufactur- 



Jonas Chicki'ring. 



535 



iiig- history of the country. The hei.nlit of .youii.i? Chickering-'s desire was to make 
at least as g-ood a piano as that he liad seen in New Ipswich — abetter one if possi- 
ble. At the outset lie resolved to be thoroug-h in all that he did, whatever might 
be the cost in time; and he never calU'd n piece of work done nntil it was as per- 
'fect in its way as he could make it. In tlie slio|) lie soon had a name for this per- 




JONAS ChtcKKRING. 

fection and faithfulness, and received from his einployei- the best work and the 
best pay. 

Meanwliilc he had found out that the poor, thin-toned litth^ pianofortes of those 
days — which were so ex|)ensive and so easily put out of order that few people 
bonght them — might be greatly improved : and he resolved to do it. Their chief 
defects were that they would constantly g(>t out of tune, and that they were very 
sensitive to tlu^. weather. In order to remedy tbese difficulties Mr. Chickering 
made a scientilic study of sound and the acHon of the air upon the wire and other 



536 One Hundred Faruous Americans. 

materials used to produce music, and made experiments in applying- the principles 
of physics to the building- of his instruments. For three years he worked on as a 
journeyman, gradually finding- out valuable hints for improvements. Then he 
started out on his own account. Little by little he gained his desire, and in 1830 — 
twelve years after he left his home to find work in Boston — he beg-an the manufact- 
uring- of his new pianofortes. He formed a partnership with a retired ship-mas- 
ter, Captain John Mackay, who took charg-e of the money matters and business 
details of the firm, while Chickering- had full charge of the manufacturing- depai-t- 
ment of what soon became a very prosperous business. As soon as better insti-u- 
ments were put in the market, the demand began to grow, and the Chickering- 
pianos became more successful than the earnest 3^oung- cabinet-maker had ever 
hoped for in his most enthusiastic dreams ; and while impro\ements on the old 
instruments had been discovered by many others who had taken up the business 
meanwhile and become successfvil manufacturers, Mr. Chickering's establishment 
as well as liis pianos stood foremost among them all. And his reputation kejjt 
on steadily increasing, for he was continually studjdng- and experimenting- to pro- 
duce finer, more perfect instruments. The wealth of the firm also grew, and 
they began after awhile to import the foreig'ii wocds needed, which was a g-reat 
advantage over buying them of the dealers, both in cost and in quality. Captain 
Mackay often made the trips after these materials himself. On one of them — 
to South America — he and his vessel were probably lost at sea, for they were 
never heard of again. 

Mr. Chickering grieved very deeply over this ; but he seemed better able to 
bear the loss of his partner and the ship than of his friend, for he mourned all his 
life over the good captain's fate, but kept on alone in his work for more than 
thirteen years, with ever-increasing- success. He was well known as one of the 
leading- business men in Boston. His beautiful warerooms, hlled with the best 
new pianos in the country, were not only visited by buyers, but they were also 
the resort of the fii'st musical people in the city. The gentlemen and ladies of 
taste and talent who g-athered there were from the best society, wherein Mr. 
Chickering' had a high place as a gentleman and a judge of musical matters, and 
as an excellent amateur musician. His workshops employed two hundred hands, 
and sometimes fifteen hundi-ed instruments were made in a year. After they 
were burned in 1852 he iminediatel.>' set to woi-k to replace them, and raised new 
buildmgs in the south part of Boston tbat were then said to be the largest struct- 
ures in the United States, excepting- the Capitol at Washington. He did not 
live to see them finished. He died suddenly in the midst of his work and car«% 
just in the prime of life. The great shops were completed by his three sons, who 
have followed his footsteps and have doubled his number of workmen, and are 



Arthur and Lewis Tappan. 537 

continually increasing- the size and inipoi'tance of their business and bringing- the 
instruments to still greater perfection. 

As a man Mr. Chickering- bore the highest reputation, being- upright, gener- 
ous, and exceedingly benevolent. At the time of his death one of the Boston 
papers said : ''He was president of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic As- 
sociation, and has been identified with numberless public charities. A list of his 
private acts of benevolence, known only to himself and those who received his 
bounty, would till volumes. Boston has been deeply indebted to his g-enius, enter- 
prise, and business energy."' It would have been truth to have said that the 
whole country was indebted to him for his great and successful labors in the cause 
of ^ood music. 

Mr. Chickering was born at New Ipswich, New Hampshire, AjDril 5, 1T98. He 
died in Boston, December 8, 1853. 

In the old Abolition days, during the first half of our present century, one of 
the most famous firms of dry-goods dealers in New York was that of two 
brothers of New England birth, Arthur and Lewis Ta]>paii. 

Arthur Tappan, the elder brother, with a g'ood common-school education, be- 
gan to make his way in the Avorld as a clerk in a Boston hardware store when he 
was fourteen years old. This was in the year 1800, and he kept at the same bus- 
iness for seven ^^^ears. Then, being- tw^enty-one years old and pretty well actiuainted 
with the trade, he went to Montreal in Canada, and established himself in a good 
business, which he continued until the beginning- of the second war with England 
in 1812. Then he left the British possessions and came to New York City. 

With a g-ood deal of knowledge of business and experience among- men, he now 
set up a dry-goods and hardware store, and took an active interest in the g-ood 
works going on in tlie city. He began in a small way at first, but was not witli- 
out money and credit. Gradually his affairs prospered, and in 1826 the house of 
Arthur Tappan & Co. was doing the larg-est silk business in the city, and had a 
fine granite store on Pearl Street, overlooking Hanover Square, and overshadow- 
ing in appearance all its neighbors. The next yeai^ his brother Lewis — who was 
two 3^ears 3'oung-er than himself, and a merchant and cotton manufacturer of 
Boston — came down to New York, and became an active partner in the business. 
They were very great and prosperous in their trade, and had one of the largest 
and most important establishments in town. Tliey employed a large number of 
clerks and kept everj^thing in most excellent, smooth-running- order. 

Mr. Arthur Tappan is said to have been the first merchant employer who 
made a point of looking after the morals and the general characters of his clerks. 

It was very much to a young- man's credit to be connected with the house 
of Arthur Tappan & Co. No better recommendation was needed. 



538 One Hundred Famoiis Auierieaus. 

Mr. Tappan used to sa \- that his success Avas chie to what was then a new feat- 
ure of trade. " It was due to having' but one price and selHu^- for cash or short 
credit." But, as his brother Lewis tells us, it was also owinj^- to another cause 
Avhich his nioilesty prevented him from stating-. This was his rare integrity. His 
customers had the fullest confidence that when they made purchases at his store 
they would not be cheated by false weights, or measui'es, or colors that would 
soon go out of style. Everything was what it was represented to l)e. 

Such high principle was not common in trade sixty years ago. It was so rare 
that a great man\' merchants bought of Mr. Tappan when tliey would not have 
done so if they could have been as well suited and as honorablj'- dealt with hy any 
one else. This was particularly the casi' witli the Southern tradesnien ; for ]Mr. 
Tappan was a great foe to slavery. 

To drive out the custom of slave-holiling was 1hi> main purpose of his life foi- 
many years. 

Soon after Lewis came to New York, Arthur started the Journal of Com- 
merce, a dailjMiewspaper, and in this, it is said, the brothers did more to start 
and push ahead the anti-slavery movement than any two hundred other men did, 
or could have done. With the aid of David Hale, (iferard Hallock, antl others of 
the tirst great Abolitionists, they kept at work for many years. From its inno- 
cent-looking columns the sentiments of liberty and free manhood were poured 
into the minds of the merchants and leading" business men in and ai'ound New 
York, till a great public sentiment was formed, people scarcely knew hoA\ . Tlu^ 
Tappans used every chance to spread the feeling against slavery — in the store, at 
home, in public meetings, and among their neighbors. They were the leading- 
spirits in the famous meetings that, until the time of the negro riots — in 1834 — 
were held in what was known as the " Chatham Street Chapel," an old theater 
that stood back from the street on the west side of Chatham Street, between Pearl 
and Dnane. The meetings held here were led by fervent religious Abolitionists, and 
were well known and hated by all slavery people. The night that the negro liots 
broke »»ut in New York it was mobbed and many people were killed, and from 
tliere the crowd went to Lewis Tappan's house — which was near b\- in Rose 
Street — sacking it, throwing the furnitui-e out of the window, and burning it 
almost to the ground. Then a new Abolitionist meeting-house was founded on 
Broadway, and the zealous work still went on. 

In 18;)o Arthur Tappan helped to establish the Emancipator. Then he 
formed the New Yoik City Anti-Slavery Society, and became President of Ihc 
American Anti-Slavery Society, founihHi by William Lloyd Gari-ison in Philadel- 
phia. He was one of the most helpful members of this Society, for he was very 
wealthy, and for some lime he ga\-e to it a Ihousand dollars a month. 



Arlinu- (Hid Lcin's Tappmi. 



539 



The Southern people liad made :i iiio\-eiueiil, against the Tappans early in lh;)U, 
and (h-evv up one of the lirst " l)o,veotlin^- " pledi^es on i-ecord. It was agreed by 
the pro-slavery Soutlierners that, no one sliould direetly or indireetly hav(! any 
dealing's with their house. " it was," an old New Yoi'k merchant tells us, 
"the beginning- of the end of the great success of the concern." From this 
'time the feeling against them gi'cnv very bitter, and being as true mei-chaiits as 
they were Abolitionists th(\\' det(,'rmined to let the people see that tlieir goods and 
not their |)iincii»les weie in tlu^ market — as another liiin, boycotted for their anti- 




Lewis Tappan. 



slavery zeal, stated in the newspapers. They redoubled their efforts upon their 
business, and at the time of the riots they were worth four hundred thousand dol- 
lars — a great sum for those days. After that teri'ible event their business fell 
olf, and when the hard times of 18:57 came, lhe\' broke down in complete failure, 
all tiieir personal property going to theii- crcditoi\s — for both men were of the 
highest integrity. Arthur had been most genei'ous with his money. Sums of all 
sizes, from five dollars to fifty thousand, he had given to charities and good work. 
He was one of the founders of the American 'J'ract Society, and donated a great 
deal of money to its first building-. The famous Lane Theological Seminary, at 
Cincinnati, wln're Doctor Lyman Beecher was J*iesi(lent, and his great son, Henry 
Ward ]3eecher, was educated, and whose students and teachers became some of 
the linest orators and nu)sl earnest I'eldrniers of Ameiica, was estal)lislic(l and 



540 One Hundred Famous. Americans. 

furnished with funds largely throug-h his aid ; and many other enterprises for ed- 
ucation and progress owe their being and their usefulness lai'gely to his gener- 
osity. Every AboUtion society received help from him liberally and constantly. 
It was partly due to this liberality — and to the Abolition zeal of the brothers — 
that they had become bankrupt. But they did not regret these things, and after 
the failure they went earnestly to work to begin again. 

The troubles of the firm began with the loss of their building and a large 
stock of valuable goods in a great fire that spread through Pearl Street one bitter 
cold and windy night, about two weeks before the Christmas of 1835. They 
opened another store at once, and would have recovei'ed bravely from these losses 
before long if several other misfortunes had not come u])on them. It was a dis- 
astrous time for all business firms then. Almost nobo(l\' bought and sold for 
cash. Tracts of land w^ere bought and laid out for new towns and cities wiiich 
were planned for a great many more people than actually settled in them. There 
was much more trade than the nation had any real need of, and throughout the 
whole country people were constantly making large purchases and paying for 
them in promises instead of hard cash. Before long they began to learn that 
cash was very scarce, and the promises w^ere little more than so much worthless 
paper. Not long after the fire, some of the Southerners who had business with 
the great firms that dealt with the Tappans began to fail to fulfill their engage- 
ments. Tliis, together with other causes, w^ere fast bringing on that great wave 
of business failures for which the year '37 is famous in the history of America 
and Europe. Mr. Tappan was cool and sound in all his dealings, and in fear of 
some such calamity he had taken greater care to sell for cash than most of the 
large New York firms ; but his house had to move along, in part at least, with 
the rest, and, with them, it soon l^egan to feel the effects of the general system of 
over-trading and long credits. Other merchants less cautious than he became 
embarrassed. Several of them appealed to him to help them, which he did, 
although all the capital and credit he had would not have been more than enough 
to keep his own business out of danger. As the months went on affairs grew 
worse. He had to raise money for himself. His name was good, and he had no 
trouble in raising a good sum. But this was soon swallowed up, and by that 
time it was impossible to get loans even on such good paper as that signed by 
Arthur Tappan & Co. There was then but one thing to do, and in May of that 
gloomy year of "37 the firm had to suspend payment, with an indebtedness of 
eleven hundred thousand dollars. 

For this they gave notes, and were allowed to go on. The longest notes were 
for eighteen months ; and, although the times were very hard and his credit was 
so much damaged that the^^ had to buy a great deal for cash, and while they had 



Alexander T. Stewart. 541 

to pay tens of thousands of dollars for extra interest, Arthur Tappan so success- 
fully managed the affairs of his firm that within the limits of their time they paid 
the whole amount of the indebtedness Avith the interest, in addition to a million 
and a half dollars for the purchase of goods. 

It was a terrible strain and eighteen months of very hard work. But the mer- 
chants came out of it with their honor not only cleared of financial disgrace, but 
with even a higher place in the public estimation than they had ever held before. 

For a few years after this the firm's affairs went on very prosperously again. 
Lewis Tappan withdrew to establish a new business — the beginnings of the great 
mercantile agency of R. G. Dun & Co. The house was still in the old name, and 
went on in something of the old prosperity for a time. But in the course of a few 
years Mr. Tappan ^was induced to buy some real estate, in which he lost a great 
deal of money, and again he was bankrupt. He then gave up all he had — even 
his watch was sold with his furniture. The firm went on under a new name, and 
at last paid all the debts, Mr. Tappan going into the service of his former part- 
ners. Twelve years after the great panic he bought a half -interest in the mercan- 
tile agency. Then, with no great amount of work, and time for his labors for 
others, he made a comfortable income, and, in five years, retired with a modest 
little fortune ; and he and his wife spent their latter years in New Haven. 

The Tappan brothers's reputation for earnestness, goodness, and benevolence 
in both public and private life was always the same. With the success of their 
new business their liberalitx' increased. Lewis was treasurer and president of 
the American Missionary Association, which was founded mainly through his 
efforts, and the close of his life was crowned with a beautiful and useful old age. 
He outlived his brother almost ten years and wrote his Life as his own was draw- 
ing to a close. 

Arthur Tappan was born in Northampton, Massachusetts, May 22, 1786. He 
died in New Haven, Connecticut, July 23, 1865. 

Lewis Tappan was born in Northampton, Massachusetts, May 23, 1788. He 
died in Brooklyn, New York, June 21, 1873. 

The dry-goods store of Alexander 'T. Stewart was one of the sights of 
New York about a quarter of a century ago. Its proprietor was the leading- 
merchant in this country, doing a business that brought in sixty thousand dollars 
a day, while the receipts of Mr. H. B. Claflin, his closest rival, were about fifty- 
six thousand dollars a day. 

Mr. Stewart was an Irishman who came as an immigrant to this country in 
1818. He was then a lad sixteen years old, who had had some years of good educa- 
tion, with the expectation that he would enter the ministry, but he gave up that 



542 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

idea and resolved to make his fortune if lie could in the New World. The first 
few years in America were spent in teaching-, because he could not g-et a place in a 
store. By the time he was twenty-one he had saved quite a little money, and re- 
ceived a small leg-acy from his giiandfather in Ireland, which he had to g-o back to 
receive. With a portion of this he bought some trimmings and fancy material 
for ladies' clothes, and stocked a small store on Bi-oadway, a few blocks above the 
Astor House. 

At this time the retail stores of New York or anj- other city in this country 
were for the most part very small places — little shops whose proprietors were 
sometimes even called "mong-ers." Mr. Stewart began in the same small way, 
and like all the other merchants of his day — large and small — lived in rooms above 
or back of the store. He had had no training- for his business, no long -prepara- 
tion under some one else's responsibility, as had Astor and other rising merchants 
of that time ; but he resolved to make up for his disadvantages as fast as possible. 
He worked from fourteen to eig-hteen hours a day, being his own clerk, book- 
keeper, and salesman, and doing- a strictly cash business. He went to auction 
sales, and boug-ht miscellaneous stocks or g-oods that were known as " sample 
lots," often thrown carelessly together. These were ver^^ cheap, and of little 
value as he g-ot them. But at nig-ht he and his wife — he married soon after he 
went into business — carefully sorted them , redressed them when it was necessary, 
labelled them handsomely, put them in attractive-looking boxes and placed them 
in the store, where they made a g-ood, salable stock. Thus he set out, buying- 
where he g-ot the cheapest, sparing- himself no work or trouble, and showing ex- 
cellent taste and order in all his departments. Besides this he could sell cheaper 
than dealers who bought their stock in a different way, and his terms were always 
cash on delivery. At Stewart's store there Avas no " beating down," and ladies 
found that no advantag-es were ever taken of them ; their children could buy 
as cheaply as themselves ; and it was his rule that any clei-k — foi' his busi- 
ness soon grew so that he had to hire help — was discharged for misrepresenting- 
an article. He Avas a hard master, holding- his employes to their duties by scA'ere 
rules, fining them if they Avere late, misdirected a bundle, OA-ei'sta^ed their lunch- 
hour, or mistook a number ; but he g-ot g-ood service from them. 

He saA^ed himself losses in stock by neA-er cai-rying OA^er goods from one season 
to another, but selling them at the close of a season, Avhen trade is usually A^ery 
dull ; he drew customers by making- " closing out " sales, when the goods it Avould 
not pay him to keep over Avere marked doAvn and sold " at cost." It Avas a clcA-er 
plan ; other merchants followed the example, and this is now a regular custom 
throughout the trade. 

Aft<?r six years Mr. SteAvart's business had g-roAA-n so much that he had to moA'e 



Alexander T. ^tenmrt. 



543 



to a larger store, and in four years more he had to take a still larger place, where 
he soon occupied five stories. Then, when he had been a merchant for fourteen 
years, he raised the great marble establishment known as the business palace — 
on the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street. It was a princely property of 



/ :v:f=: 




\ ^ "J s 

Alexander T. Stewart. 

ever-growing value, and situated in one of the best localities in the city, being in 
the very heart of the greatest mercantile quarter in America. 

Mr. Stewart fully understood the wisdom of putting money into New York 
property. About tlie time that the Civil War lu'oke out, when he was in the 
midst of his growth and success, he was worth from fourteen to twenty millions 
of dollars, and owned more real estate than any other person in New York, except-^ 
ing, perhaps, William B. Astor. Beside his great down- town store, he owned the' 
Metropolitan Hotel and the out-buildings belonging to it, and nearly all of Bleecker 
Street between Broadway and his residence, Avhich was near Sullivan Street. The 
custom of merchants living over tlieir stores was being given up now, and Mr. Stew- 



544 One Hundred Famous Ainer'icans. 

art had moved to a fine house in what was then the most fashionable part of the 
city. At about this same time he also built up the whole block between Ninth and 
Tenth Streets, Broadway and Fourth Avenue, which he made into the largest 
and most complete retail store in the world, as by care, economy and courage, 
enterprise, wisdom and industry, and shrewd bargains he raised himself to the 
rank of the most successful merchant in the world. 

His success was due to his study of people, to employing pleasant-mannered 
and good-looking clerks to wait upon his customers, to arranging his store Avith 
good taste, and managing it with dignity and style, and to his firm determination 
to make everything serve his will for the one great purpose of constantly increas- 
ing his business. He drove hard bargains, and spared no one. Much of his pros- 
perity was built up at the cost — sometimes the ruin — of others. 

He invested a great deal of money in real estate outside of New York as well as 
in the city. He had, for some years before his death, a vast amount of valuable 
property and extensive buildings in New York, Saratog-a, and that part of New 
Jersey which he finally built up and made into the beautiful town called Garden 
City. He was not a genei^ous man, and his name is fast being forgotten, thoug-h 
he has been dead but ten years : yet there were times when he used his wealth for 
the good of others. During the famine in Ireland he sent a ship-load of provisions 
to his distressed countrymen, and in this country' he also gave to a number of 
w^orthy charities. 

Though he built a great marble palace on Fifth Avenue foi' his home and fur- 
nished it with all the luxuries that money can provide, he was a simple man in his 
manners and his habits ; and appeared to be a modest gentleman of leisure, while 
he carried the sole management of two of the heaviest dry-goods houses in the 
world, and was expending millions of dollars upon his beautiful little property 
of Garden City. 

Alexander T. Stewart Avas born near Belfast, Ireland, October 13, 1803. He 
died in New York City, April 10, 1876. 

In the publishing trade of America one of the oldest and greatest firms is that 
wldch was originally made up of James, John, Joseph Wesley, and 
Fletcher Harper. From this house millions of bool^s, papers, and magazines 
have been issued, and are being issued every year. The volumes are of almost 
all kinds — school-books, fi^om primary readers to bulky dictionaries; stoiy-books, 
works of information, novels, travels, essays, poetry, in all grades of costliness, 
from the cheap paper-covered "libraries" to expensive editions de luxe. Then 
there are magazines and newspapers for both old folks and young; and the name 
of the house is a guarantee that the publication is a good one. 



James Harper. 



545 



The founder of this great business was James Harper, the eldest of the four 
brothers. He beg-an Ufe as a poor New York printer, and he ended it, enjoying 
tlie respect of all who knew him, and as a famous and wealthy publisher. When 
he w-as sixteen years old, it was thought that he had spent years enough attend- 
ing the village public school of his Long- Island home, and in helping on the farm 
of his father— who was also a builder — and so he was apprenticed to some New York 
printers. This was just before the opening of the second war between the United 
States and England, for James Harper was only about one year younger than 




James Harper. 

Cornelius Vanderbilt : and Thurlow Weed, afterward the famous political jour- 
nalist, was his fellow-apprejitice. 

There are several stories told of young Harper's ambition to do a great deal 
of work in those days ; very often he and Mr. Weed did fully a half-da^^'s work 
at their cases before the others reached the office ; and many a time Harper would 
induce his friend to make "' another token " at evenings, after they had finished 
a g-ood day's work. He often made fourteen dollars a week, which was very 
large earnings for those days. 

When he started in business for himself it was with his younger brother John, 
who had learned type-setting in another New Yoi-k printing"-house, and was out 
of his time as apprentice-boy soon after James was. He too was a quick and ac- 
curate compositor, being also a very excellent proof-reader — a faculty that was 



54G One Hundred Famous Americans. 

of g-reat service in the-ir business. Both these 3'oung men were very fond of each 
other, and thoug-h differing- some in their tastes and special gifts, they were much 
alike in their ambitions, and were w^ell fitted to carry on a business tog-ether. They 
Avere both temperate, faithful, and industrious. By careful saving- and steady over- 
work, they had five hundred dollars saved by the time their apprenticeships were 
over, and, adding to this a few more hundred dollars loaned them by their father, 
they set up a printing-office of their own in Dover Street, New York. Their 
work was chiefly printing for publishers and booksellers, and most of it was done 
by themselves alone, each taking the branches about Avliich he knew the most. 
For a year or so they made books for Evert Duyckmck, a leading New York 
bookseller of that time ; and in 1818, they brought out their first book—'' Locke's 
Essays on the Human Understanding- "—on their own account. They went along 
very cautiously at first, for there are large expenses and g-reat risks in bringing 
out new books ; but the brothers had sound judgment, and with the added pre- 
caution of finding- out how many copies each of the leading booksellers would take 
of a proposed publication before they decided to issue it, and also having- the skill 
to produce a well-made book, they soon beg-an to succeed. In a few years they 
were among- the leading- New York publishers and owners of one of the best 
printing-houses in the city. 

In lS->5, about eight years after the brothers made their start together, the 
business was enlarg-ed, the two younger brothers— Joseph Wesley and Fletcher— 
Avho had been apprenticed to James and John— Avere taken into the business, and 
the famous firm of Harper & Brothers was formed. Tliey opened their ncAv house 
in numbers 80 and 82 Cliff Street ; and Avith the management Avell divided among- 
the four industrious, persevering-, and judicious partners, according to their special 
grifts and training, the business grcAv rapidly and steadily. 

"Which is Mr. Harper and Avhich are the Brothers? " some one once asked. 
"Any one is Mr. Harper," Avas the reply, "and the others are the Brothers." 
"While each had his oavu special department, they all Avorked together, and noth- 
ing- Avas ever done of Avhich any one disapproved. 

In 1853, after the business had been under the management of the four brothers 
for almost thirty years, and had groAvn from the original rooms in Clifi Street 
till it occupied six stores running- all the Avay through the block from Cliff to 
Pearl Streets, a fire broke out one afternoon and the establishment burned to the 
ground, Avith a terrible loss of almost everything- but the stereotype plates, Avhich 
had been packed aAvay in the large street vaults. The papers Avhich on Monda\- 
morning- contained an account of this fire announced on Tuesday that Harper &■ 
Brothers had taken the buildings at the corner of Gold and Beekman Streets, and 
that their business Avould g-o right on. Almost Avhile the old building Avas falling 



James Harper. 



547 



plans had been laid for a new one to take its place. After the brothers had done 
all that they could to save their property, they joined the other lool^ers-on in the 
street. After awhile the cool, quiet John, looking- at his watch, saw that it was 
dinner-time, and turned calmly to g-o home; but before leaving he remarked to 
his brothers that they " had better come to his house that night and talk it over." 
They did so, and the result was that John began his plans for the new building- 
that night, and telegrams were sent out for new presses at once. The new building- 
is the immense structure of iron, brick, and stone that now stands on Franklin 
Square and Cliff Street, covering half an acre of ground. It was built in less 




JoiiN Harper. 

than a 3'ear after the fire, and Mr. John Harper was the only architect employed 
on it. 

Mr. James Harper — who once said in a joke that his portion of the business was 
entertaining- the bores — was a tall, strong man of gay spirits, pleasing" manners, 
and the most kindly of natures. He was a sincere and open Christian, and had a 
generous character, full of forbearance and consideration for all the people he had 
anything to do with. He was also a man of immense vitality, unfailing good hu- 
mor, and the shrewdest good sense. He not only '•entertained the bores," but 
usually extended the hospitalities of the firm to all their visitors ; and many of the 
men and women of letters whom he met in this way grew from business acquaint- 
ances to warm personal friends. '' He has been described," as a writer said recent- 
ly, "as a teetotaler who was never sober. His fund of anecdote, quaint tales, 
and harmless jokes was unfailing, and he could set the office as well as the table 



548 One Hiuidred Famous Americans. 

in a roar. He had a kindly word and jest for every man, woman, and child in 
the estabhshment, and was endeared to all who met him by his affability and 
humor and shrewdness." He did not seek to be noted, and for the most part his 
life Avas devoted to the business — for he did a very larg-e share toward raising- up 
its solid structure of success — his famil^^, his church, and a large circle of friends. 
He had no desire to get into politics, but in 1844, after urgent requests, he ac- 
cepted the nomination for Mayor of New York, and was elected by a ver^^ large 
majority. He only served one term, and never went into any sort of public life 
again ; but that one term is to be remembered, for he then organized the New 
York police force, which is now one of the most perfect in the woi'ld. 

James Harper was born at Newtown, Long Island, April 13, 1795. 'He died in 
New York City, March 27, 1869. 

The sunny nature of the eldest brother was ver^' different from that of the 
quiet, sober John, usually called the '' Colonel." He had the same good sense, 
with remarkable will-power and judgment ; he was bold, resolute, quick to decide, 
never betraying hesitation, rapid in planning, daring in execution. His special 
department in the firm was the management of its money matters, although he 
always kept a printer's interest in the Avay the books were printed, and was a 
severe critic in all such matters. It has been said that as long as he kept any 
care in the business he critically examined every book the fii'm put out — and they 
had issued fully two thousand, including the periodicals, as early as 1854, Not a 
sing'le error in type of any kind escaped his well-trained eye, and he was espe- 
cially careful about the title-page. He would revise and revise a dozen times till it 
suited his critical taste, and not until it did suit him Avould he allow it to go to 
press. As manager of the finances a great deal of the prosperity and integrity 
of the firm was due to his calm, clear judgment and prompt, effective business 
methods. 

John Harper was born at Newtown, Long Island, January 22, 1797. He died 
in New York City, April 24, 1875. 

The head of the literary department was the third brother, Joseph Wesley, 
who was taken into the firm in 1825. It has been said that he was above all 
things else a man of judicial mind, subtle and keen in his insight, yet of broad, 
temperate, and sagacious judgment. For almost half a century he was at the 
head of the department where all the literary correspondence was attended to, ex- • 
amined all the manuscripts, of which — like all publishers — he found ag'reat many 
more to reject than accept, but this he did so kindly that he never hurt any 
one's feelings. 

"Less sturdy in frame, and less robust in health, he was gentle and studious; 
well read in current literature, and a good judge of what was valuable " — what it 



Joseph Wesley Harper. 549 

was worth their while to expend time, labor, and money on to put into book-form. 
Mr. Georg-e Ripley, the celebrated Tribune critic, and for a long- time one of the 
Harpers' readers and Mr. Wesley's intimate friend, said he never heard a pas- 
sionate or inconsiderate word from his lips ; his manners were the " very essence 
of kindness," he said, and his conversation was always pleasant and instructive, 
enlivened with humor, and like the candid and affectionate man that he was. Mr. 
I Curtis, the editor of the Weekly, said that there was a singular sagacity and jus- 
tice in all that he said. ''In every part of the building there was always the 
same friendly, serene presence which had its voice of authority upon occasion, but 




Joseph Wesley Harper. 

Avhich seemed to pervade all like sunshine. He was so simply courteous and kind 
that he controlled without commanding." 

j Mr. Joseph Wesley Harper was born at Newtown, Long Island, December 2."), 
^1801. He died in New York City, February 14, 1870. 

Mr. Fletcher Harper's part, James said, was to " make the thing go " — that 
is, he had the business management. " He was always on the jump, displaying 
immense energy and great powers of managing men. He abhorred ruts and 
routine, and wanted quick, energetic men around him." Though James started 
the Monthly, it was Fletcher, the man of tact, judgment, and push, who took the 
management of it and made it a success. It was he also who originated the 
Weekly, and, with the aid of Mr. Curtis as editor, made it a power in politics 



550 



One Hundred Famous Americans. 



without ever joining- it to any party. The Bazar, too, was under Mr. Fletcher's 
wise direction. Some one has said that in all business relations he was a g-reat ad- 
ministrator, and would have been distinguished in any position requiring- energ-y, 
sag-acity, quick judg-ment and master}^ of men. He had that instinct of a leader 
which made him choose his instruments wisely and — to use Mr. Curtis's words 
— surround himself with minute-men. 

He was a man of remarkable powder and strength of nature — having- a ^' noble 
manliness made sw^eet and mild by the freshest of affections and the most tender 
sympathy." He w^as g-reat in everything-, and in nothing- more so than in his 




Fletcher Harper. 



modesty. Resolutely, but without display, he pushed his way. *' He never held 
an office or wished for one. He was not seen at public meetings on great occa- 
sions ; and no man of equal mark in the city more instinctively avoided every kind 
of notoriety. His home, thronged with affectionate kindred, was happy beyond 
the common lot ; and at his hospitable table sat friends from far and near, to 
whom his sweet and sunny welcome w^as a benediction like summer air." His 
brothers all went before him — "the cheery James, the indomitable John, the 
gracious Wesley ; " and while he lived to feel the sorrow^ of seeing the original 
brotherhood dissolved, he also had the pleasure of seeing their sons, a strong, ener- 
getic, high-minded generation, rise to take their places and continue the great 



Daniel AppJeton. 551 

business with the same ''unbroken harmony, the settled trust, and the perfect 
confidence in each other " that was the keystone of its success. 

Fletcher Harper was born at Newtown, Long Island, in 1805. He died in 
New York City, May 39, 18::. 

The name of Daniel Appleton, the founder of the great New York publish- 
ing-house of D. Appleton & Co., is one of the most famous in the book trade of 
the United States. Mr. Appleton was a New England man, who began his busi- 
ness career in his native town of Haverhill, Massachusetts, and did not come to 




Daniel Appleton. 

New York until several years after, having lived in Boston meanwhile and estab- 
lished himself in quite a successful dry-goods business. He moved this to New 
York and opened a store in Exchange Place, when that great brokers' quarter of 
to-day was the most fashionable shopping district in town. He was a very keen, 
enterprising man, and saw at once that a good book-store in that neighborhood 
would pay. So he resolved to take in a little more than a dry-goods trade ; and, 
forming a partnership with his brother-in-law, Jonathan Leavitt — a bookbinder 
of Andover, Massachusetts — he made his first venture in the enterprise of mak- 
ing, importing, and selling bookF. He was a man of quick judgment and real 



552 One Hundred Famous Americans. 

mercantile spirit, and the business soon became so important that the dry-g-oods 
department was given up, and the whole of his and his partner's energies were 
devoted to their new department. After five years the firm was dissolved, and 
each of the brothers-in-law went on by himself. 

Mr. Appleton's first books were small religious works, but he soon launched 
out into g-eneral literature and built up an immense trade both in making" and im- 
Iporting". After a time he took his son, William H. Appleton, into partnership, 
and ten years later — in 1848 — he retired, with the request that the firm should bear 
his name as long as it lasted. To this day all the checks and notes of the house 
are signed with the name of Daniel Appleton written in full. On old Mr. Apple- 
ton's retiring Mi'. William H. Appleton took his place and several of his young-er 
sons became members of the firm ; since then'other members of the family have 
also been taken in, and the business has grown to an enormous extent. A trade 
journal says : The success of the firm was so great during- the first quainter of a 
century of its life as a publishing-house, that it was enabled to begin the second 
quarter by a monumental enterprise, the "New American Cyclopedia," which 
was edited by George Ripley, the critic and literary editor of the Tribune, and 
Charles A. Dana, the editor of the kiun. It was a well-made work and was sure 
to be valuable, but it took a g'reat amount of courage for the publishers to put it 
out. After they had it read}' for that j^ear — 1857 — there was a panic, and it re- 
quired not only capital but courag-e to undertake so extensixe an enterprise at a 
time when the business outlook was so bad. The year 186;>, when the last volume 
was issued, was iu the very crisis of yie Civil War — the year of the capture of 
Vicksl)urg. Yet through all these financial and political disturbances, the firm 
continued to issue theii' books, volume after volume. The cost of the first edition 
must have been over half a million of dollars, and the sales must be counted by 
tens of thousands. Nothing that the care of the editors or the money of the pub- 
lishers could do was wanting- to make the " New American Cyclopedia " a success ; 
and they were rewarded for their faithfulness in the work and their enterpi'ise in 
])roducing it by a prompt sale and ready acceptance of it by the best judg-es as one 
of the most valuable standard works ever produced in this country. A dozen 
years later it was re-issued in a carefully revised edition, with maps and illustra- 
tions that cost nearly $100,000. This is supplemented by annual volumes of 800 
pages, each giving- a history of the world for one year. In 188G the firm under- 
took the pubUcation of an extensive and carefully edited '■• Cyclopjv'dia of Ameri- 
can Biography," to be completed in six royal octavo volumes, of which three have 
already (188?) appeared. 

The house is still in the full tide of its importance, and does an immense busi- 
ness in America and in its foi-eign branches. It keeps to much the same lines — 



Williaui H. Appletoii. 



553 



though going- more largely into scientific works — as those in wliich the founder 
left it five years before his deatli. Its " Popular Science Monthly " stands at the 
head of periodicals of its class. From the great establishment, now on Bond 
Street, come books of general literature and works on education. The famous 
*' Webster Speller" has had an enormous sale, greater probably than any other 
American book ever published ; from the first about fifty million copies of it have 
been issued, and even now, Avhen the sale is said to have fallen off some, a million 




William H. Appleton. 



copies are put out regularl}- every year. From this house also come many books 
of all kinds for young folks, volumes of travel and description— notably " Pictu- 
resque America," " Picturesque Europe," "Picturesque Palestine" — and many 
learned works of foreign as well as American authors, and a vast amount of 
translations, novels, poems, and general reading. The partners at present are 
William H. Appleton, Daniel S. Appleton, W. W. Appleton, Daniel Appleton, 
and Edward D. Appleton. 

Daniel Appleton Avas born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, December 10, 1785. 
He died in New York City, March 3r, 18-49. 



INDEX. 



Abolition, 44, 55, 107, 113, 114, 133, 852, 266, 310, 

403, 416, 418, 538. 
Academy of Design, National, 490, 496, 499. 
Actors, 470. 

Booth, E., 477. 

" J. B.,477. 
Cushman, C, 474. 
Forrest, E., 470. 
Jefferson, J., 481. 
Adams, J., 43, 43, 57, 58, 61, 63, 68, 70, 73, 80, 
85, 130, 131, 517. 
" J. Q., 60, 76, 81, 93, 96, 117, 159, 223, 

388, 493, 498. 
" S., 57, 61, 64, 260, 513. 
"Advertiser," Boston, 438. 
Aft-assiz, J. L. R., 869, 371. 
Agnevv, C. R., 343. 
"Alabama" Claims, 134, 137. 
Alaska, 116. 
"Albany Regency," 115. 
Alien and Sedition Laws, 60, 80. 
Allan, J., 414, 415. 
Allen, T. F., 343. 
AUston, W., 493, 494, 501. 
American Seamen, Impressment of, 84. 
" Seamen's Friend Society, 306. 
System, 81, 333. 
Ames, F., 74, 517. 
Anaesthetics, 331. 
Antarctic Explorations, 335. 
Anti-Federalists, 57. 

" Slavery. See Abolition and Slavery. 
Anthony, S. B., 367. 
Appomattox, 183. 
Appleton, D., 551. 

D. & Co., 456, 551. 
" N., 536. 

W. H., 553. 
Ai-ctic Explorations, 336, 378, 279. 
Arnold, B., 145. 
Artists, 467. 

Allston, W., 493. 



Artists : 

Anderson, A., 503. 

Beard, W. H., 503, 

Booth, E., 477. 
" J. B., 477. 

Brown, H. K., 513. 

Cole, T., 503. 

Coplev, J. S., 483. 

Crawford, T., 508. 

Cushman, C, 474. 

Darley, F. O. C, 502. 

Davis, 503. 

Durand, A. B., 496. 

Forrest, E., 470. 

Freeman, Mrs., 511. 

Fulton, R., 4. 

Gifford, R. S., 502. 
S. R., 503. 

Greenough, H., 505. 

Hosmer, H., 511, 

Hunt, W. M., 500. 

Jefferson, J., 481. 

Johnson, E., 503. 

Kensett, J. F., 502. 

Lentz, E., 502. 

Linton, W., 503. 

Morse. S. F. B., 16. 

Mason, L., 467. 

Nast, T., 503. 

Powers, H.. 506. 

Reinhart, C. S., 503. 

Stebbins, E., 511. 

Story, W. W.,510. 

Stuart, G., 491. 

Sully, T., 493. 

Trumbull, J., 489. 

Vanderlyn, J., 494. 

Ward, j'. Q. A., 512. 

West, B., 485. 

Whitney, Miss, 511. 

Yuengling, 503. 
Assembly, U. S. Constitutional, 44, 49, 51. 



556 



Index. 



Assumption of State Debts, 56. 
Astor, J. J., 518, 531. 
" W. B., 523, 543. 
Astoria, 526. 
Astor Libi-ary, 521, 523, 
Audubon, J. J., 352, 356, 429. 

Bancroft, G., 384, 387, 388, 399. 
Bank of N. A., 48, 56. 
" of U. S., 1st, 56, 373. 

2d, 57, 81, 92, 93, 159, 160, 273. 
Banks, N. P., 193, 194. 
Baptists, 300. 

Bai-barv States, 166, 169, 170, 173. 
Bard, S., 318, 319. 
Barthalow. R., 342. 
Bartram, W., 349. 
Bates, J., 381. 
Battles : 

Antietam, 135, 178, 194. 

Bladensburg, 123. 

" Bonne Homme Richard" and " Serapis," 
154. 

Bnindywine, 118, 143, 148. 

Bull Run, 1st, 175, 186, 193, 195, 456. 
2d, 178, 194. 

Bunker Hill, 41, 42, 163, 490. 

Camden, 150. 

Cedar Mountain, 194. 

Cerro Gordo, 164. 

('liancellorsville, 191, 194. 

Ohapultepec, 164, 180, 189. 

Chattanooga, 186. 

Chippewa, 162. 

Churubusco, 164. 

Concord, 68, 398. 

Corinth, 181. 

"Drake" and "Ranger," 153. . 

Eutaw Springs, 150. 

Frede)'iclvsburg, 191. 

Gaines's Mills, 176, 194. 

Germantown, 118, 143, 148. 

Gettysburg, 192. 

Goldsboro', 188, 196. 

Iron Hill, 118. 

luka, 183. 

Lake Erie, 173. 

Lexington, 43, 68, 143, 146, 316, 346, 483, 
514. 

Long Island, 54, 143, 14r. 

Lookout Mountain, 183. 

Lundy's Lane, 163, 

Malvern Hill, 176, 194. 

Mecbanicsville, 176. 

Missionary Ridge, 183. 

:\Iolinodel Rev, lfi4, 180. 

Monmoutii, 54, 118, 144, 148. 



Battles : 

New Orleans, 158, 198. 

Niagara, 163. 

Palo Alto, 180. 

Bowles's Hook, 119. 

Princeton, 54, 143. 

Quebec, 44. 

Queenstown, 162. 

San Jacinto, 533. 

San Juan d'UUoa, 164. 

Saratoga, 143, 489. 

Seven Days', 176. 

Shiloh, 186. 

South Mountain, 178. 

Springfield, 149. 

Stillwater, 143. 

Stonv Point, 119, 144. 

Trenton, 54, 148. 

Vera Cruz, 164, 174. 

Warrenton, 179. 

White Plains, 54, 148. 

Wilderness, 182. 

Williamsburg, 176. 
Beard, W. H., 502. 
Beauregard, P. T. S., 175, 193. 
Beck, J. B., 329. 

" T. R., 328, 329, 362. 
Beecher, Henry Ward, 311, 540. 
Lyman, 309, 400, 540. 
Bennett, J. G., Sr., 442. 

J. G., Jr., 250, 448. 
Bigelow, E. B.. 37 
Blackwell, A. Brown, 268. 
E., 342. 
" L. Stone, 265, 368. 
Blaine, J. G., 388. 
Blanchard, T., 14. 
Board of Trade, Philadelphia, 534. 
Bonaparte, C. L., 353, 354. 
Boone, D., 315. 
Boonesborough, 316, 317. 
Book Sales, 98. 
Booth, E., 477. 

" J. B.,477. 

" W., 108. 
Boston Massacre, 61, 64. 

" Tea Party, 58, 61. 
Boylston, Z., 391, 315. 
Braddock, Gen. E., 140, 141, 487. 
Bradford, W.,,306. 
Breckinridge, J. C, 107. 
Bridge, H., 397. 
Brook Farm, 399, 456, 463. 
Brooks, P. S., 134. 
Brown, Gen., 163. 
H. K.,513. 
J., 261, 447. 



Index. 



557 



Brvant, W. C, 357, 404. 407, 408, 416. 
Buchanan, J., 103, 108, 11(>, 134, 235. 
Biuklington, S. O., 249. 
Burnskle, A. E., 179, 182. 
Burr, A., 57. 73, 122, 162. 

" Rev. A., 294. 
Burritt, E., 374. 
Business Men, 513. 
Appleton, D., 551. 

W. H., 553. 
Astor, J. J., 518. 
Carey, H. C, 97. 

" M., 98. 
Chickering, J.. 534. 
Claflin, H. B., 541. 
Cooper, P., 279. 
Cope, T. P., 523. 
Derby, E. H., 513. 
Dick, N. & J., 532. 
Douglass, B. & Co., 540. 
Dun & Co., 541. 
Duyckinck, E., 546. 
Girard, S., 270. 
Goodyear, A., & Sons, 24. 

' * C 23 
Grinnell, H.,"'236, 238, 246, 277. 
Hancock, J., 61. 
Harper & Bros. , 544. 
Fletcher, 550. 
" James, 545. 
" John, 547. 
J. W., .549. 
Hill, H. R. W., 531. 

" McLean & Co., 532. 
Lawrence, A. & A., 525. 
Abbott, 525. 
" Amos, 528. 

Leavitt, J., 551. 
Morris, R., 46. 
Murray, L., 344. 
R., 343. 
Peabody, G., 274. 
Stewart, A. T., 541. 
Tappan, A. & L., 537. 
Vanderbilt, Cornelius, 538, 
•Willing & Morris, 47. 

Cable, Atlantic, 20, 31. 

Cabot, S., 336. 

Calhoun, J. C, 80, 83, 84, 86, 88, 89, 90, 91, 93, 

101, 106, 133, 159, 160, 508, 536. 
Caloric Power, 11, 13. 
California, 94, 116, 331, 233, 388. 
" Cambridge Bard," 412. 
Canals, 6, 12, 51. 75, 282, 524. 
Carey, H. C, 97, 99, 101. 
" M., 98» 



Carr, D., 67. 

Carson, C, 236. 

Carver, J., 306. 

Channing, W. E., 126, 350, 306, 309, 495, 

509. 
Chase, S. P., 100, 111. 133, 133, 346, 257. 
Chauncey, Com., 173. 
Chickering, J., 531, 534. 
Childs, G.'"W., 463. 
Civil Rights Bill, 135. 

" Service Reform, 160. 
Claflin, H. B., 541. 
Clarke, W., 319. 
Clay, H., 78, 79, 82, 84, 86, 89, 93, 93, 94, 106. 

115, 133, 159, 333, 510. 
Clergymen. See Divines. 
"Clermont," 6,7, 14. 
Clinics, 325. 

Clinton, De W., 51. 75, 77, 117, 282, 494. 498. 
G., 72, 75. 
Sir H., 144, 145. 
Clocks, 37. 
Cole, T., 496. 
Colman, J., 48. 
Columbia River, 222, 229. 
Confedei'ation, Articles of, 42. 
Congregationalists, 296, 298, 299, 309, 318. 
Congress, Colonial, 64. 

Continental, 42, 47. 50, 53,, 55, 58. 61, 
64. 67, 70, 73, 142, 294, 295, 296, 
318, 319. 
Stamp Act. 62. 
Convention, Constitutional, of 1853, 102. 
Commanders, Militarv and Naval, 139, 175. 
Decatur, S., 166. " 
Farragut, D. G., 197. 
Grant. U. S., 179. 
Greene, N., 146. 
Jackson, A., 156. 

T. J. ("Stonewall"), 192. 
Johnston, J. E., 195. 
Jones, J. P., 151. 
Lee, R. E., 189. 
McClellan, G. B., 175. 
Perry, M. C, 174. 
" O. H., 170. 
.Scott, W., 160. 
Washington, George, 139. 
Commerce, 272, 513. 
Commercial Agency, 540. 
Committee of Correspondence, 6, 7, 70. 
"Common Sense," Paine's, 49. 
Compromise, Clay's Worst, 81, 93. 
Missouri, 81, 106. 
of 1850, 116. 
Constitution, U. S., 53, 56, 83, 86, 88. 
Cooper, J. F., 98, 393, 396, 400. 



558 



Index. 



Cooper, Peter, 51, 379. 

Cooper Union, 380, 383. 

Cope, T. P., 533, 535. 

Copley, J. S., 483, 485, 493, 494. 

Cornwallis. See Surrender of Yorktown. 

Cortoreal Bros., 336. 

Cotton, 3, 98, 536. 

"Courier and Enquirer," 459. 

Crawford, W. H., 159, 163. 

" T 508 

Curtis, G. W.', 436, 463, 549, 550. 
Cushman, C, 474, 511. 

S., 477. 
Curi-ier, Baron, 334, 353, 370. 

Dana, C. A., 456, 553. 
'• J. D., 358. 
" R. H., Sr., 407. 
" R. H., Jr., 434. 
Darlev, F. O. C, 503. 
Davis, J., 188. 196. 
Davy, Sir H., 334. 
Decatur, J., 168, 513, 

S., 166. 
Declaratiou of Independence, 43, 47, 58, 60, 63, 
64, 70, 73, 85, 118, 140, 355, 394, 395, 396, 306, 
318, 319, 490, 498. 
De Haven, Lieut., 337. 
De Long-, G. W., 350. 

Democratic Party, 59, 61, 71, 75, 81, 83, 103, 
106, 107, 113, 136, 138, 133, 160, 179, 385, 
386. 
DEstaing, Count, 43, 139, 144, 149. 
Des Moines River Explorations, 334, 335. 
Dennison, A. L., 37. 
Dentists, 333. 

Morton, W. T. G., 335. 
Wells, H., 333. 
Derbv, E. H., 513, 535. 
"Dial," The, 430, 433. 
Dick, N. & J. &Co., 533. 
Dinwiddie. R., 140, 141. 
Divines, Eminent, 384, 390. 

Beeciier, Henry Ward, 311. 

Lvman, 309. 
Channing, W. E., 306. 
Da Bois; J., 304. 
Dwio-ht, T., 395, 
Edwards, J., 371. 
Eliot. J., 384. 
Hughes, John J., 303. 
Judson, A., 398. 
Mather, C, 388. 
I., 386. 
Williams, R., 306. 
Witherspoon, J., 394. 
Doughty, T., 496. 



Douglass, B. & Co., 540. 
Drake, J. R., 408. 
Du Bois, J., 304. 
Dun & Co., 541. 
Durand, A. B., 496. 
Duyckinck, E., 546. 
D wight, T., 395, 309. 

Edison, T. A., 34. 

Editors and Journalists, 438. 

Bennett, J. G., Sr., 443. 
J. G., Jr., 447. 

Childs, G. W., 463. 

Curtis, G. W., 463. 

Dana, C. A., 456. 

Greeley, H., 449. 

Ravmond, H. J., 458. 

Ripley, G., 456. 
Education, 73, 75, 96, 368, 369, 383, 384, 373. 
Edwards, J., 391, 395. 
Electricity, 16, 34, 37, 363. 
Election, Dispute of 1876, 138, 
Eliot, J., 384, 386, 408. 
Ellery, W., 306. 
Emancipation of Slaves, 135. 
Embargo Act, 73, 136. 
Emerson. R. W., 104, 399, 435, 439, 430, 431, 

433, 434. 
Engine, Caloric, 11, 13. 

Fire, 13. 

Hydrostatic, 13. 

Locomotive, 13, 333, 383. 

Solar, 13. 

Steam, 13, 333. 
Engravers, 503. 

Anderson, A., 503, 

Cole, T.. 503. 

Davis, 503. 

Durand, A. B., 496. 

Linton, W., 503. 

Yuengiing, 503. 
Era of Good Feeling, 440. 
Ericsson, J., 8. 
Essayists, 404. See Poets. 
Esqmmaux, 345, 346, 347, 348. 
" Etheon," 337. 

Etherization. See Aniesthetics. 
Ethnology, 330. 
Evarts, W. M., 136. 
Everett, A., 391, 441. 

E., 95, 380, 391, 441, 508, 510, 
Explorations, Antarctic, 235. 

America, 301. 

Arctic, 336, 378, 379, 

California, 330, 333, 334. 

Columbia River, 333, 334, 

Bes Moines River, 334, 



Index. 



559 



Explorations: 

Great Salt Lake, 339. 

Kentucky', 315. 

Massachusetts, 301, 306. 

Missouri River, 319, 384. 

New England, 305, 306. 

Pacilic Coast, 331, 351. 

Rhode Island, 307. 

Rocky Moiui tains, 331, 335, 337, 330, 333. 

Sierra Nevada, 339, 330, 333. 

South Sea, 335, 359, 367. 

Virginia, 301, 304. 

West, 319, 333. 
Explorers. See Pioneers. 

" Fanny Forrester," 301. 
Federal Coinage, 71. 

■' Constitution, 74. 

" Party, 57, 59, 71, 73, 79, 84, 88, 133, 138, 
436, 441. 
"Federalist," The, 56. 
Field, C. W., 30. 
Fillmore, M., 85. 87, 103, 133. 
Fisher, G., 33. 
Fhnt, A.,Sr., 340. 
" A., Jr., 340, 348. 
" T., 388. 
Foote, A. H., 180. 
Forrest, E., 453, 470, 477. 
Fort Donelson, 180. 

Duquesne, 140, 141, 487. 
Erie, 163. 
Gaines, 300. 
George, 163, 173. 
Henry, 180. 
Jackson. 198. 
McAllister, 188. 
Morgan, 300. 
St. Philip, 198. 
Sumter, 107, 175, 357, 447. 
Washington, 143. 
Franklin, B."; 6, 16, 41, 46, 48, 55, 57, 58, 71, 173, 
385, 318, 319, 330. 
Ladv, 336, 388. 
Sir J., 386, 339, 346, 348, 377. 
Free Masons, 114, 533. 
" Soil Party, 113, 133. 
" Trade, 8, 81, 99, 101, 103, 103, 104. 
Freeman, Mrs., 511. 
Fremont, J. C, 333, 335, 333, 388. 

Mrs. J. C, 334. 
Fugitive Slave Bill, 133. 
Fuller, M.Ossoli, 431, 434. 
Fulton, R., 5, 334. 
Funding Act, 56. 

Gage, T., 61. 
Gallatin, A., 333. 



Garrison, W. L., 133, 353, 358, 360, 363, 539. 
Gates, H., 143, 150. 
Giddings, J., 361. 
Gilford, R. S., 503. 
6. R., 503. 
Gin, Cotton, 3, 3. 
Girard, S., 370, 533. 
Gold, Discovery of, 333. 
•' Geoff ry Crayon," 391. 
Goodhue, B., 517. 
Goodvear, A. & Sons, 34. 

C, 33. 
Gosnold. B., 301. 
Crant, U. S.. 117, 184, 138, 179, 186, 188, 191, 

300, 383, 388, 455, 456. 
Gray, A., 373. 
"Great Eastern," 33. 
Greek Oppression, 83, 83, 85, 353. 
Greeley. H., 93, 115, 116, 135, 430, 433, 449, 456, 

458, 461. 
Greenbacks, 111. 
Greene, N., 51, 54, 145. 
Greenough, H., 495, 505, 507. 
Grinnell, H., 386, 338, 346, 377. 

Expedition, 1st, 385, 336, 338. 
3d, 339, 344, 377. 
Gunboats, 9, 10, 11. 
Guyot, A. H., 371. 

Hale, C, 443. 
" D., 538. 
" N.. 438. 
Hall, C. F., 346, 349, 350, 459. 
Halleck, F., 40y, 431, 513. 
H. W., 178, 181. 
Hallock, G., 538. 
Hamilton, A., 48, 49, 51, 53, 71, 74, 79, 130, 133, 

148, 355, 490. 513. 
Hancock, J., 61, 64, 359. 
Handel and Hadyn Society, 434, 456, 468. 
Hard Cider Campaign. 453. 
Harper & Bros., 443, 459, 463, 463, 544. 

" Fletcher, 550. 

'' James, 545. 

" John, 547. 

" J. W., 549. 
Harper s Ferry, 191, 193, 194, 363, 447. 
Harrison-Tvlei' Administration, 85. 

W. H., 86, 96, 130, 387, 453. 
" Harry of the West," 80. 
Hawlev, J., 51, 75. 
Hawthorne, N., 396, 400, 439. 
Hav. 31. 
Hayes, Isaac!., 343, 346. 

" R. B., 188, 435. 
Havne, R. Y., 86, 88, 133, 160. 
Hayti, 135, 371. 



560 



Index. 



Helmuth, W. T.. 342. 
Heai-y, J., 361, 368. 376. 

" P., 50, 57, 65. 70, 71, 78, 120, 143. 
"Herald," N. Y., 250, 442, 449, 452, 464. 
Hicks, E., 264. 
Hildreth, R., 387, 388. 
Hill, H. R. W., 531. 
Hill, McLean & Co., 532. 
Historians, 376. 

Bancroft, G., 384. 

Blaine, J. G., 388. 

Fremont, J. C, 388. 

Flint, T., 388. 

Grant, U. S., 388. 

Hildreth, R., 387. 

Irving, W., 389. 

Lee, H., 388. 

Lossing, B. J., 388. 

Motley, J. L., 382. 

Palfrey, J. G., 388. 

Parkman, F., 388. 

Prescott, W. H., 376. 

Ramsav, D., 388. 

Ticknor, G., 379. 
Hoe, R., 38. 

" R. M., 38. 
Holmes, O. W.. 332, 382, 419. 
Holy Alliance, 85. 
" Home Weekly," 466. 
Hood, J. B., 196. 
Hosmer, H., 511. 
Howard. E., 37. 
Howe, E., 31. 

" G. A., 142, 143, 144. 
Hughes. John J., 302. 
Hunt, W. M.,500. 
Hunter, J., 322, 323. 

Illustrators, 502. 

Darley, F. O. C, 502. 
Nast, T., 502. 
Reinhart, C. S., 502. 
India-Rubber, 23. 

Indians, 140, 201, 202, 204, 205, 210, 213, 216 217, 
218, 219, 220, 222, 226, 227, 232, 284, 294, 346, 
418, 486, 487, 531 . 
Impressment of Am. Seamen. 84. 
Improvements, Internal, 80, 114, 533, 92. 
Independence. See Declaration. 

" Acknowledged, 71. 

Birth of, 62. 
Inoculation, 290, 315. 
Inventors, 1. 

Bigelow, E. B., 38. 
Blanchard, T., 14. 
Cooper, Peter, 279. 
Dennison, A. L., 37. 



Inventors : - . 

Edison, T. A., 34. 

Ericsson, J., 8. 

Fulton, R., 4. 

Goodvear, C, 23. 

Henrv, J., 362. 

Hoe, R., 38. 

Hoe, R. M., 38. 

Howard, E.. 37. 

Howe, E., 31. 

Jerome, C, 37. 

Lyall, J., 38. 

McCormick. 26. 

Morse, S. F. B., 16. 

Rodman, T. J., 13. 

Terry, E., 37. 

Whitney, E., 1, 2. 
Irving, W., 98, 327, 389. 

Jackson, A., 81, 82, 88, 93, 93, 94, 156, 163. 443, 

508, 513. 531, 533. 
Jackson, C. F., 331, 334. 337. 

T. J. (Stonewall), 176, 178, 191, 192. 
Jacobi, M. P., 342. 
Japan Expedition, 174. 
Jay, J., 44, 56. 58, 73. 75, 120, 343, 435. 490. 
Jeanette Expedition, 250. 

Jefferson, Thomas. 42, 44, 51, 57, 58. 59, 60, 
67, 68, 69, 79, 85, 126, 166, 219, 221, 255, 
513. 
Jefferson, Joseph, 481. 
Jenner, E., 315. 
Jerome, C, 37. 
Jewett, J. P., 400. 
Johnson, A., 110, 137, 183. 

E., 502. 
Johnston, A. S . 179, 180, 190. 

J. E., 176, 186, 188, 195. 
Jones, J. P., 43, 51, 151. 
"Journal of Commerce," 538. 
Journalists, 438. See Editors. 
Judson, A., 298. 

A. H., 299. 
E. C, 301. 

S. H. (Mrs. Boardman), 301. 
"Junto," The, 46, 

Kane, E. K., 236. 243, 244, 345, 351, 377. 
Kansas, Admission of, 103. 

Nebraska Bill. 114, 358, 453. 
Kearney, P., 331. 
Kensett, J. F., 502. 
Kent, J., 122. 
Kentucky. 214. 
King, R.' 121. 
Know-Not hing Party, 116. 



Index. 



561 



Lafai'ge, J., 501. 
Lafayette, Marquis, 145, 368. 
Lathe, Turning-, 15. 
Laurens, H., 44, 58. 
Lawrence, A. & A., 525. 

Abbott. 368, 525, 528, 531. 
Amos, 528. 
" Hcientific School, 537. 
Town of, 526. 
Lawyers, 118. 

Adams, J., 57. 
Bryant, W. C, 406. 
Cullioun, J. C. 90. 
Chase, S. P., 112. 
Choate, R., 129. 
Clay, H., 78. 
Evarts. W. M., 136. 
Hamilton, A., 52. 
Hayne, R. Y., 88. 
Henry, P., 65. 
Hildretli. R., 387. 
Jay, J., 44. 
Jetferson, T., 69. 
Jackson, A., 157. 
Kent, J., 124. 
Lincohi. A., 106. 
Marshall, J., 118. 
Morris, G., 50. 
Murray, L., 343. 
, O'Conor, C, 135. 
Otis, J., 62. 
Pinkney, W., 122. 
Scott, W., 161. 
Seward, W. H., 114. 
Stanton, E. M., 110. 
Story, J.. 126. 
Webster, D., 82. 
Wirt, W., 68, 112, 129. 
•' Ledo-er," Philadelphia, 463. 
Lee, C., 143, 144, 148. 
" H., 67, 388. 
'•• R. E., 109, 176, 178, 182, 186, 188, 189, 194, 

195, 262. 
" R. H., 67, 70. 
Legislature, Massachusetts, 57, 61, 64. 
" Pennsylvania, 42. 

Virginia, 65, 68, 70, 120, 142. 
Lentz, E., 502. 
Lewis, M., 219. 
"Liberator," The, 254. 
Library, Astor, 521, 522. 

" Boston Athenfi3um, 380. 
Free Public, 381. 
Lincoln, A., 100, 104, 108, 110, 111, 112, 114, 116. 
1.S4, 165, 176, 179, 182, 190, 235 236, 400, 461. 
Literary Fairs, 98. 

Gazette, 464. 



Livingston, C, 6. 

R. R., 42. 
Locomotive Engine, 13, 228, 282. 

Novelty, 13. 

RocketC 13. 
Longfellow, H. W., 381, 398, 408, 416. 423. 424. 
Long-worth, N., 507. 
Loom, Automatic, 38. 

" Improved Shuttle, 38. 
Lossing, B. J., 388. 
Louisiana Purchase, 72, 162. 
Lovejoy, E. P., 259. 
Loweli; J. R., 422, 510. 

" J., 439. 
Lowell, Founders of, 526. 
Lvmdy, B., 253. 
Lyall, J., 38. 

Machine, Pumping, 20. 

Reapino-, 26, 29. 
Sewing. 31, 32. 
" Stocking, 14. 
Mackay, J., 536. 
Mann.'H., 268. 
"March to the Sea," 187. 
Marshall, J., 52, 118, 128, 129. 508. 
Mason, L., 467. 

" and Dixon's Line, 81, 94. 

and Shdell, 116. See "Trent" Affair. 
Massasoit, 195, 207. 
Mather, C, 286, 288, 315. 316. 

Increase, 286. 
Maury, M. F., 366. 
Maxwell, 226. 

McClellan, G. B.. 108, 175, 190, 193, 194, 207. 
McClintock, Sir F., 246. 
McCormick, C. H.. 26. 
McDowell, I.. lU,s, 175, 176, 186, 193, 194. 
McElrath, T., 452. 
McPherson, J. B., 186. 
Mercantile Agency, 540. 

Library, Philadelphia, 524. 
Merchants, 513. See Business Men. 
"Merrimac." 10. 
Mexico, 116, 164, 185. 
" Mill Boy of th<! Slashes," 78. 
Ministers, 284. See Divines. 
Missionary Work. 298. 
Missouri River Explorations, 219. 
Mitchell, S. L., 323. 
S W., 342. 
"Monitor," 10, 11. 
Montague, Lady M., 316. 
Morris, G.. 48. " 

R., 46, 47, 51, 56, 513. 
Morristown, 145. 148. 
Morse, S. F. B.. 16, .340, 499. 



562 



Index. 



Morton, S. G.. 830. 

W. T. G.. 831, 334, 335, 33y. 
Motley, J. L., 185, 258, 380. 383. 
Mott, L., 257. 261, 263, 267. 

" Valentine, 825, 498. 
Mount Vernon, 97. 142, 146. 
Mliller, M., 860. 
Mun-ay, L., 848, 846. 498. 

R., 348. 
Musician.s, 467. 

Nast, T., 502. 

Native American Party. 116. 

Nebraska Bill, 114, 358, 453. 

Nelson. T., 71. 

Newloundland and London Tel. Co., 20, 283. 

Ne\vi)ort, 145, 149. 

Newspapers, American, 45, 438. See Editors. 

Non-iinportation Act, 47. 

Northeast Passage, 286. 

Northwest " 236. 

Novelists, 889. 

Cooper, J. F., 392. 

Hawthorne, N., 396. 

Stowe, H. B., 400. 
Nullification, 86, 88, 92, 93, 160, 164. 
Nulhliers, 81, 93, 94, 333. 

O'Conor, C, 135. 

"Old Hickory," 81. 159. 

Open Polar 8ea. 242, 243, 345. 

Oregon Bill, 94, 180. 

Ossawatoniie, 361. 

Ossoli, M. Fuller, 481, 484. 

Otis, J.. 61, 63. 64. 359. 

Paine. Thomas, 49. 
Painters. 483. 

AUston. W., 498. 

Bcaid. W. H., 503 

Copley, J. S., 488. 

Dmaiid, A. B., 496. 

Fulton, Robert, 4. 

Gi fiord, R. S., 503. 
S. R , 503 

Hunt, W. M., 500. 

Jolmson, E., 503. 

Kensett, J. F., 503. 

La Farge, J., 501. 

L<>nlz, E., 503. 

Morsi% S. F. B.. 16 

Stuart. (4., 491. 

Sullv, T., 498. 

Trulubull, J.. 489. 

Vanderlyn. J., 494, 

West, B", 485. 
Palfrey, J. G., 888. 



Parker, F. A., 338. 
Parkman, F., 888. 
"Parsons' Cause.'" 66, 78. 
"Pathfinder Rocky Mountains," 334. 
Peabody, G., 339, 374, 376, 510. 
Penn, W.. 211. 

" Sons of, 42. 
Perry, A. L., 104. 
" C. R., 170. 
" M. C, 174. 
•• O. H., 170. 
Petersburg, 183. 

Philanthropists, 253. See Reformers. 
Phillips, W., 183, 257. 
Physicians and Surgeons, 815. 
' A-i-new, C. R., 843. 

Allen, T. F., 343. 

Anderson, A., 503. 

Bard, S., 819. 

Barthalow, R., 843. 

Beck, J. B., 839. 
" T. R., 328. 

Black well, E., 342. 

Boylston, Z., 815. 

FlinL Austin, Sr., 840. 
" Austin, Jr., 343. 

Francis, J. W., 337. 

Helmuth, W. T., 843. 

Holmes, O. W.. 419. 

Jackson, C. F., 388. 

Jacobi, M. P., 343. 

Loomis, A., 343. 

Mitchell. S. L., 333. 
S. W., 335. 

Morton, S. G., 330. 
W., 831. 

Mott, v.. 835. 

Physick, P. S.. 833 

Ranney, S. L., 343. 

Roberts, W., 842. 

Rush, B.. 317. 

Wairen, J. C, 887. 

Waterhouse, B.. 492. 

"Weir, R. F., 843. 

Wells, H., 888. 
Physick, P. S., 331, 833, 498. 
Piano- makint;', 584. 
Pierce, F., 1()3, 135, 165, 397, 399. 
Pdgrims, 301, 306, 311, 287. 
Pinkney, W., 132, 139. 
Pioneers and E.x|ilorers, 301. 

Boone, D., 315. 

Bradforti, W.. 206. 

Carvei'. J.. 206. 

Clarke, W.. 219. 

DeLong, (L W., 350. 

Fremont, J. C, 333. 



Index. 



563 



Pioneers and Explorers : 

Gosnold, B.. '201. 

Hall, C. F.. 246. 

Haves, I. I., 248. 

Kane, E. K., :^m. 

Lewis, M., 219. 

Penn, W., 211. 

Rodgers. J , 201. 

Smitli, J.. 202, 206. 

Standisli, M., 206. 

Wilkes, C, 285. 

Williams. R., 206. 
Plymouth, 206. 
Pociihontas, 207. 
Poe, E. A., 412, 416. 
Poets and Essayists, 404. 

Bryant. W'. C, 404. 

Dana, R. H , 407. 

Drake, J. R., 408. 

Emerson. R. W., 425. 

Fuller, M. Ossoli, 431. 

Halleck, F., 408. 

Holmes, O. W., 419. 

Longfellow, H. W., 408. 

Lowell, J. R., 422. 

Poe, E. A., 412. 

Riplev, G., 456, 459, 552. 

Thoreau, H. D., 429. 

Webster. N., 484. 
Political Economy, 50, 51, 98. 101, 103, 104. See 

also Tariff, Protection, and Free Trade. 
Political Economists, 97. 

Calhoun, J. C, 90. 

Carey, H. C, 97. 

Clav^ H., 78. 

Franklin. B., 41. 

Greeley. H., 92. 449. 

Hamilton, A., 52. 

Morris, G., 50. 
■' Robert, 47. 

Perry, A. L., 104. 

Walker, A., 101. 

F. A., 108. 
" R. J., 102. 
Polk, J. K., 19, 82, 102, 232, 332, 385, 399. 
Pope, J., 178. 194. 
Porter, D., 197. 198, 517. 

D. D., 198. 
Powder, Gun, 18. 
Powers, H., 506, 508. 
Preble, E., 166. 168. 
Presbyterianism, 292, 294. 310. 
Prescott, W. H., 876. 879, 880,382, 441. 
"Princeton,"' Gunboat, 9. 
Printing, 38, 89, 40, 48. 
Privateering, 514. 
Protection. See Tariff. 



Proyidence, 207. 
"Publisliers* Weekly,"' 464. 
Publishing Business, 541, 544. 

Appleton, D. & Co., 551. 

Harper & Bros.. 544. 
Puritans, 284, 286, 875, 896, 416, 418, 425. 

(Quakers, 21i; 213, 263, 416, 528. 

Railroads, 224, 238, 281, 298, 524. 580. 
Ramsey, D., 388. 
Randolph, J., 68. 
P., 70. 
Ranney, A. L., .342. 
Raymond. H. J., 456, 458. 
Recorder, Telegraph, 18. 
Reformers and Pliilanthropists, 252, 810 

Anthony, S. B., 268. 

Beecher, Henry Ward, 311. 
" Lvman, 810. 

Blackwell, A. Brown. 267. 
" L. Stone, 267. 

Brown, J., 261. 

Cooper, P., 279. 

Garrison, W. L., 252. 

(xirard, S., 870. 

Loyejoy, E. P., 259. 

Lundy, B., 258. 

Mann, H., 268. 

Mott. L., 261. 

Peabody, G., 274. 

Phillips, W., 257. 

Smith, G., 261. 

Stanton, E. C, 264. 266. 
H. C, 264, 266. 

Tappan, A., 261. 
" Lewis, 261. 

Vassar, M., 270. 

W^hittier, J. G.. 261. 
Reinhart, C. S., 502. 
Republican Party (present), 100, 107, 116, 188, 

285, 886, 400, 436, 441, 458, 461. 
Republican Party, National, 96, 486. 
Republican Party, New, 59, 61, 71, 72, 75, 79, 

81, 886. See Democratic Party. 
"Richard Saunders,'" 45, 46. 
Riggs & Peabody, 275. 
Rights of Search". 78, 171. 
Ring Frauds, 185. 
Ripley. G., 456. 459, 552. 
Robel-ts, W.. 342. 
'• Rocket,"" Locomotiye, 13. 

Rocky Mountain Explorations, 221, 225, 327, 230. 
Rodnian, T. J.. 13. 
Roman Catholicism, 802. 
Rotation in Office, 159. 
Rumford, Count, 346, 368. 



564 



Index. 



Sago of Concord, 426. 

Sun Doininyo Queslioii, 135. 

Santa Anna, 164. 

Scliolai's and Teachers, 843. 

Agassiz, L. J. R., 369. 

Audubon, J. J., 353. 
Mrs., 353. 

Burritt, E., 374. 

Dana, J. D.. 858. 

Gray, A., 373. 

Guvot, A. H., 371. 

Heury, J., 361. 

Maury, M. F., 366. 

Murray, L., 343. 

Ruuilord, Count, 346. 

Silliinan, B., Sr., 356. 
B., Jr., 358. 

Thompson, B., 346. 

Torrey, J., 372. 

Whitney, W. D., 860. 

Wilson, A., 349. 

Woolsey, T. D., 860. 
Sclmyler, P., 51. 
Scott, WuiHeld. 93, 160, 175, 176, 183, 189, 190, 

195, 518. 
Sculptors, 505. 

Brown. H. K., 513. 

Crawford. T., 508. 

Frecinan, Mrs., 511. 

(Treenoui;h, H. ,505. 

Hosnier, H., 511. 

Powers, [liram, 506. 

Stebl)ins, E., 511. 

Story, W. W., 510. 

Ward, J. q. A., 513. 

Whitney, Miss, 511. 
Secession, 98. 
Settlement of Boonesborougli, 316. 

Jamestown, 301. 

Pennsylvania. 212. 

Piymdulii, 306. 

Providence. 307. 
Sewall, S., 136. 

Seward, \V. H., 118, 114, 165, 336, 306, 453. 
ISewing-maciiine, 31, 33. 
Shernlan. R., 43. 

\V. T., 183, 186, 196. 
Siege or Surrender of Appomattox, 183. 
' Athinta, 187, 194. 

Cerro Gordo, 164. 

Cha|)ul tepee, 164. 

Fort Donelson, 179, 18 

Fort Duquesne, 141. 

Fort Erie, 163. 

Fort George, 163, 173. 

Fort Henry, 180. 

Harper s Ferry, 191, 194. 



Siege or Surrendei- of : 

Mexico, 165. 

New Orleans, 1.58. 

Pensacola, 158. 

Petersburg, 183, 186, 194, 300. 

Raleii;-li, 188, 196. 

San Juan d'Ulloa, 164. 

Saratoga, 143. 

Savannah, 188. 

Stony Point, 144. 

Tripoli, 167. 

Vera Cruz, 164, 174. 

Vicksburg, 183, 186, 194, 200. 

Yorktovvn, 48, 55, 64, 120, 145, 150, 155, 
156, 176, 435. 
Silliman, B., Sr., 356, 858, 393. 

B., Jr., 356. 
Slavery, 44, 55, 70, 71, 83, 86, 87, 90, 91, 93, 94, 
107, 113, 113, 114, 116, 132, 133, 135, 136, 143, 
385, 252, 266, 367, 269, 813, 832, 402, 416, 418, 
422, 533, 588. 
Shdell. See Trent Affair. 
Sloat, J. D., 381. 
Smith, G., 183, 361, 447. 

John, 303. 306. 
Smithsonian Institution, 180, 361, 365, 366. 
South Carolina Exposition, 93, 553. 

" Sea Expedition, 385, 859. 867. 
Stamp xVct, 43, 57, 58, 61, 63, 65. 
Standisii, M., 306. 
Stanton, E. C, 357, 264, 366. 

E. M., 108, 179, 181, 183, 456. 
H. B., 364, 366. 
State Debts, Assumption of, 56. 
Statesmen and Orators, 41, 78. 

Adams, John, 57. 
" Sanmel, 64. 

Calhoun, J. C, 90. 

Carey, H. C, 97. 

Chase, S. P., 111. 

Choate, R., 139. 

Clay, H., 78. 

Chnton, De W., 75. 

Everett, E., 95. 

Franklin, B., 43. 

Hamilton, A., 52. 

Hancock, J., 61. 

Hayne, R. Y., 88. 

Henry, P., 65. 

Jay, J., 78. 

Jefferson, T., 68. 

Lincoln, A., 104. 

Morris, G., 50. 
R., 46. 

Otis, J., 63. 

Periy, A. L., 104. 

Pinkney, W., 133 



Index. 



565 



Statesmen and Orators : 

Seward, W. H.. 114. 

Stanton, E. M., 108. 

Sumner, C. 130. 

Walker. A.. 101. 

F. A.. 103. 
R. J., 103. 

Webster, D., 82. 
States' Rio-hts. 71, 88, 133, 193. 526. 
Steam, 6, 89, 10, 16, 33, 334. 
Stebbins. E., 511. 
Stewart, A. T., 541. 
Stocking-mac'liine, 14. 
Stockton. R. F., 9, 10, 331. 
Stone, BlackwellL., 365. 
Storv. J., 131, 136, 131, 306, 510. 

•• ■ W. W.. 434. 510, 511. 
Stowe, C. E., 313, 403. 

Harriet Beecher. 400. 
Stuart, G., 491, 494. 498. 

J. E. B., 176, 363. 
Submarine Telegraph, 20. 
Warfare, 8, 10. 
Sub-Treasury, 86. 
Sullivan, J. ,"149, 514. 
•■Sun." N. Y., 453, 456, 553. 
Sully, T., 493. 

Sumner, C. 113, 130, 357, 509. 
Surgeons, 315. See Physicians. 
Surrenders. See Sieges. 

Tammany Society, 75, 77. 
Tuney, R. B., 113, 160. 
Tappan, A. & L., 133, 354. 361, 537. 
Taritf, Compromise, 81. 83. 

" Protective, 57, 80, 86, 93, 93, 98, 99, 100, 
101, 104, 130, 441, 453. 

" Troubles. 93, 160. 
Taylor, Z., 103, 115, 537. 
Teachers, 343. See Scholars. 
Telegraph, 16-30, 34, 383, 333, 340, 363. 
Tenure of Office Bill, 110. 
Ten-v. E., 37. 

Texas, 83. 86. 94, 103, 115, 133, 333, 387. 
Thanksgiving Day, 387. 
Thomas, G. H., 183. 
Thompson. B., 346, 368. 

C, 61. 
Thoreau, H. D., 399, 439. 
Ticknor, G.. 379,441. 
Tilden, S. J., 138. 
Timber-bending. 16. 
"Times," N. Y., 448, 456, 458. 
Torpedoes. 8, 11. 
Torrey. J., 372. 373. 
Transmitter, Telegraph, 18. 
Treaty, Franklin's, with France, 43, 44. 



Treat3% Franklin's, with Prussia, 44. 
Jay's, 14, 130, 133. 
" Japan and U. S., 174. 

Ghent, U. S. and England, 80, 90. 
'• Revolutionary, witli England, 44, 58, 71, 
" Webster- Ashburton, 86. 
"Trent" Affair, 116, 135, 165, 336. 
"Tribune," N. Y., 100, 433, 453, 455, 458, 459. 
Trumbull, John, 489, 491, 493, 494, 409, 553. 

Jonathan, 489. 
Tuckerman, J., 306. 
Tyler's Cabinet, 10, 86, 94. 

Union and States' Right Convention. 88. 
Unitarianism, 264, 306. 307, 309. 426. 456. 

Valley Forge, 118, 143. 148. 

Van Buren, M., 93, 133, 159, 160, 385, 443, 

508. 
Vanderbilt, C, 528, 545.. 

'• Steamboat, 531. 

" University, 531. 

Vanderlvn, J., 494, 496, 498. 
Vane. Sir H., 310. 
Van Zandt, J.. 113. 
Vicksburg, 183, 186, 196, 300. 
Vulcanized Rubber, 33. 



WaiKer, A., 101. 

F. A., 103. 
R. J., 103. 
War. See also Battles and Sieges. 
Algerine, 169. 
Black Hawk, 163. 
Civil, 10, 97, 100, 103, 103, 104. 
116, 165. 175, 180, 186, 189, 193, 
235, 336, 348, 350, 351, 357. 305, 
337, 388, 400, 432, 438, 447, 456, 
Crimean, 100, 175. 
French and English, 155. 

and Indian, 140, 314, 316. 
King Phihp's, 310, 286. 
Mexican, 86, 160, 164, 175, 180, 189, 

231, 338, 351. 333,433. 
of 1813, 44.80, 90, 91, 133, 158. 160, 
170. 171, 174, 350. 373, 374, 375, 
388, 490, 517. 
Revolutionary, 41. 44, 46, 54, 58, 6'. 
71, 85, 118, 'Vi2, 153, 156, 166, 314, 
374, 295, 306. 318, 321, 322, 333, 
344, 346, 353, 374, 388, 435, 438. 
493, 510, 513, 518. 
Seminole, 159, 186, 192, 195, 251. 
Tripolitan, 166, 173. 
Ward, J. Q. A., 513. 
Ware, H., 436. 



107, 
195, 
314, 
543, 



111, 
197, 
336, 
553. 



193 195, 



163, 


168, 


380, 


398, 


i, 64 


, 66, 


,317, 


373, 


335, 


343, 


483, 


486. 



566 



Index. 



Wan-en, J. C, 337. 

Wasliington, George, 46, 48, 51, 53, 54, 55, 
58, 59, 60, 64, 68, 70, 71, 72, 74, 120, 121, 
139, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 255, 319, 321, 
435, 489, 490, 493, 498, 505, 512, 513. 

Washington, Mrs., 142, 143, 146. 

Washington of the Medical Profession, The. 

Watches, 37. 

Waterhouse, B., 492. 

Wayne, A., 119, 144. 

Webster, D., 55, 81, 82, 83. 88, 94, 97, 106, 
132, 183, 441, 508. 
E., 84. 

Noah, 434, 498. 
Speller, 505, 552. 

Weed, T., 115, 452, 453, 545. 

Weir, R. F., 342. 

Wells, H., 331, 333, 335, 336. 339. 

West, B., 5, 8, 485. 490. 492, 493, 494. 

West, Explorations in, 215, 219, 224, 
888. 

West Point, 145, 150. 

Wheat, 31. 



Whig Partv, 81, 86, 102. 106, 113, 114, 133, 165, 
57, 385, 387, 436, 441, 452, 453, 461. 

122, Whiskey Insurrection, 219. 
327, Whitney, E., 1, 2. 
Miss, 511. 

Whittier, J. G., 261, 416. 
322. Wilkes, C, 235, 359, 367. 

Wilkinson, J., 162. 

Williams, R., 206. 

Willine- & Morris, 47. 
130, AVilmot Proviso, 87, 94, 113-14, 269. 

Wilson, A., 349, 354, 429. 

Winthrop, J., 207. 

Wirt, W., 68, 112, 129. 

Witchcraft, 288, 290. 

Witherspoon, J., 294, 818. 

Women's Rights, 260, 265, 267. 

Woolsey, T.D., 860, 361. 

World's Fair, London, 29, 276. 
283, Writs of Assistance, 62. 

Yorktown, 48, 55, 64, 120, 145, 150, 155, 156, 
176, 435. 



mlT^°^^°^S 




011410 152 7 



